Again
by Live.Love.Twix27
Summary: Percy can't stand seeing Annabeth hurt. And maybe that's the whole problem. :: in which Percy's given a choice :: relive everything from his first meeting with Annabeth to his last, or lose her forever - completely AU
1. Prologue

**Again by .Twix27**

**Rated 'T' for language and violence**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Dedicated to:<em>

_StarlitReader, who inspired me_

_percabeth777, who's just like me_

_And Cassie's Neighbor, the one who's stories made me want to become as wonderful an author as she is_

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><p><span>PROLOGUE<span>

Red.

Percy sees red before he even enters the throne room, and all he can think is how it's all happening too soon. Can't they have a single month of peace? Then the fear hits him - cold, hard, metallic _fear_.

Because Annabeth's lying on the floor, covered in blood.

.

Let us backtrack twenty minutes, though, when Percy's world is perfectly fine. Oddly undisturbed.

Percy's walking home from another day at school. School. The word sounds so normal and deliciously boring; sometimes Percy would say it out loud just to hear it roll off the tip of his tongue. (Ladies and gentlemen, that's called _insanity._) He's got his hands shoved in his pockets of his hoodie, skateboarding down Lower East Side. He hasn't been attacked for over a week - if the incident with an unruly hell-hound and a drunken cyclops on his way to Sunday church counts, which it hardly does.

But when he gets the IM, he falls off his skateboard, ignoring it when it rolls away. Thalia's face is bone white, her expression grim. At that moment, Percy is reminded his life is in fact very far from normal. Thalia whispers a single, seemingly unimportant word, and Percy's world turns upside down and inside out. (Ladies and gentlemen, that's called _fear._)

"Annabeth."

.

Now he's frozen ice cold and numb; standing there shocked. Only Annabeth's whimpers unfreeze him and send him hurtling back into reality. He's running.

Annabeth's got this gaping wound, bright red and bleeding. Slashes across her right shoulder and a scrape along her forehead. Percy's stomach pulls.

_I will not cry._

"Annabeth." he chokes, just to hear the sound. They lock eyes, and she manages a shaky smile.

"I'm a little beat up, aren't I?" she says playfully, raising an eyebrow. At least her spirit's been left intact. "Don't look so worried. _You _need to lighten up, Seaweed Brain."

That brings a smile. But then she gasps (tries to hide it), and he's screaming for _somebody to please help them_.

He holds her hand.

"Annabeth, people are coming to help you, okay? Thalia went to go get help. Just stay calm. Don't panic—it'll just make things worse. Okay? Don't panic..."

She cuts him off. "Percy, I'm perfectly relaxed. I'll be fine, understand?"

They both know she's lying.

It's not until Apollo says even he can't possibly patch her up, though, that he breaks. Years from now, Olympians still report to have seen a figure crouched next to the fireplace, crying heartbroken, aching sobs.

Still, many write them off as just reports. Because after all, Western Civilization's great heroes never cry.

.

There's this offer. A ridiculous, out-of-this-world offer. The gods strongly disagree with it, but Percy knows.

Percy knows it's Annabeth's only chance.

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>There's a soft glowing, and the Queen of the Gods materializes from thin air; gold dust fluttering to the ground where she appears.<p>

"I'd like to make a proposal of sorts."

Percy looks up from his place at Annabeth's side. The gods allowed her admittance into Mount Olympus' hospital - the stay wouldn't be long, after all.

"Yeah...?" Percy's hair keeps falling in front of his face, he hasn't taken a shower since Tuesday (his fault) and he feels like rolling over and _dying_. Hera's proposal better be a short one.

"I know..." Hera glances at Annabeth, making sure she's asleep. "I know how to save her." Percy's gaze snaps towards Hera, lightning fast. _Oh gods please._

His voice comes out shaky, unsteady, much unlike the hero he's pretending to be. "What?"

"I knew you'd be curious."

.

"The Fates have wound everything so tightly together, it's almost impossible to change the past. It's much easier changing the future, isn't it?" Hera looks at Percy questioningly.

"Uh... yeah. I mean, I guess so." he manages.

"So wouldn't it be oh-so-much easier if I could send someone back in the past to eliminate whatever injured Annabeth so fatally today? Think about it, Percy. Did you even _wonder _what hurt your little girlfriend so bad?"

Percy's sick of this, because he's heard it a thousand times. Sometimes it feels like all of Olympus expects him to be The Hero, capital "T" capital "H" every day. But the truth is he can't be five jillion places at once.

"Hera, in case you haven't noticed, I was a little gods damn _busy_." Thunder rumbles throughout Olympus, but he doesn't take it back.

Hera just shakes her head, like he's a toddler whining over a lost toy.

"You see, the whole time you and your little friends have been roaming around on your various quests..." Hera goes on, fluttering her fingers like a butterfly. Only the Queen of the Gods can manage to look utterly bored and entranced at the same time.

Percy looks at her incredulously. "They were quests for your..."

Hera holds up her hand. "That whole time, dark forces were rising, forces maybe even darker than Kronos himself. But we gods, I'll admit, were so busy preventing Kronos from taking control; we didn't notice the matter at hand. Percy, as you may or may not have noticed, the _koblos _are rising."

Silence. Annabeth murmurs in her sleep, face scrunched up in pain. (_It should have been me._)

"The... koblas?"

"_Koblos_. An ancient people who used to roam freely during Kronos' reign. The sly, distorting creatures even the great Adelphos couldn't defeat." Hera answers, a smile playing on her lips.

"Who's Adelphos?"

"Exactly."

Percy gulps, running his hand through his hair.

"They are deceitful, clever spirits and monsters that see into your soul. They are wired to read your mind, know your fears, thoughts, hopes, and dreams. And they use them against you. See, they aren't a brute force... their strength is hitting you where it hurts. Annabeth is only the first step."

More anger courses through Percy's veins. Why did it have to be her?

"How can I stop them?" Percy demands, fists clenched. "How do I save her?"

"Ah, not so fast little hero."

Hera narrowly avoids the spray of water sent in her direction.

"A little angry today, aren't we Perseus? I guess that's what the pain of loss will do to you."

Another shot, this time a little stronger, aimed more carefully. _She's baiting you, Percy. _Annabeth's voice is in his head, and he stops.

"Just tell me: what do I have to do_?_"

Hera purses her lips. "You never were patient then, were you?" Percy scowls in response. "The basis of the problem is the past. What we should have done. Go back in the past and stop the Koblos from rising in the first place, and Annabeth will be saved."

.

"You know the rules, right?" A curt nod. "There's no turning back after you... agree with the terms." Another one. " And you do recall you won't have _any _memories of Annabeth, or the quest you've been sent on, right?" A hesitation.

"Hera, how will I know? How will I know to look for the Koblos, to defeat them, if I don't remember this at all?"

Hera opens her hand, and a glowing grey orb flickers to life just above her palm. Before Percy can react, she flings it at him.

"Hey, watch that!" Percy ducks but not fast enough, and it hits him right below the hollow of his throat. He braces for the pain, but none comes.

Looking down, a faintly glowing, grey crystal hangs from a leather cord around his neck. His camp necklace is gone.

Hera brushes off her hands, satisfied. "This will guide you. Do not lose it."

"And I'm supposed to remember this... how?"

"Just. Don't."

A nod.

"Hera...? I just... why do you care? Why are you helping me, I mean. Besides the whole Koblos rising thing—I thought Annabeth was your enemy. Why are you helping her now?"

Hera sniffs, as if insulted by the suggestion that she'd ever _help _Annabeth. "I don't care the slightest for the daughter of Athena. Let's just say... she's needed, for something in the future. Something important."

Percy nods, stealing his courage.

"Alright, my hero. I wish you the best of luck."

.

The world sways, and Mount Olympus, Annabeth, and Hera, the majestic queen of the gods, fades.

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><p><strong>AN: ****And that concludes my first chapter written in the history of the world! It's really short, but it's meant to be a prologue. Things are probably confusing right now, but they'll play out, promise. **

****Percy's going back in time to prevent the _k_**_**oblos **_**from rising. (they'll be explained in more detail later: who leads them, why, etc.) He'll be introduced to Annabeth (again) and notice… something's up. Something's definitely not right.****

**Feel free to review and tell me your thoughts! I appreciate every little word! :)**

**~Selena**


	2. Chapter 1: Princess Curls

****A/N: Hey guys! T****his first chapter is where the real story begins. I feel bad for not saying this before, but Percy and Annabeth are going to be OOC from this point onward. Hera isn't the Time Travel Goddess, so consequently, time got a little... frazzled... during Percy's journey to the past. But I won't give away anything else.****

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><p><em>Dedicated to:<em>

_xFireStar, my ah-mazing new beta_

_high . fiving . jesus for... understanding :)_

_meeeethegr8, for her 5-hour-smile-inducing reviews and PMs_

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><p><span>Chapter 1—Princess Curls<span>

~ _Percy can't stand seeing Annabeth hurt. And maybe that's the whole problem. The whole crazy, unrealistic problem that caused him to hurtle through space and time. Because Percy can't stand seeing Annabeth hurt, and now that she is (quite badly), everything else disappears. And he's left with one thought: Save her. Then his whole world's black. ~_

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>It starts out nicely enough (Or as nicely as a demigod-first can).<p>

Percy's being chased by this bull-thing_, _and suddenly his mom's gone and it's raining and Grover's talking about food and—is that a cow wearing underwear? And there's this lingering feeling that he's done it all before.

Lighting, a pine tree, a (very) big house; it all flashes before Percy's eyes. He's running—hard. But that... _monster _is running harder. His instincts tell him to head towards the sprawling ranch-style farm house, framed by the lightning forking across the sky. Somehow, some way, Percy manages to kill the thing. It dissolves (literally) into golden dust, immediately vanishing in the pounding rain.

Percy half drags, half carries Grover (still moaning), and all he can think is how _heavy _he is. He collapses on the porch, barely conscious. Looking up, he sees a horse-man and moths circling a ceiling fan, like vultures. Blonde princess curls, grey eyes, a serious face.

Pain, and this odd aching in his stomach hit him hard. Where has he seen that face?

Then darkness.

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>The world's blurry; all grey and black and white. Percy's eyes blink slowly and with much effort. He's lying on a cot, a faded blue blanket tucked carefully around his waist. All he can make out is a virtually empty room, save for... someone. It feels like there's a million pounds of sand in his ears, but he still hears the crying.<p>

Sobs, gasps, and whimpers fill the room. And the place they're coming from—a girl with knotted blonde hair, slumped shoulders, ripped up jeans, and a bright orange t-shirt that's kind of out of place.

Percy's stomach _hurts_. He winces, and then Princess Curls is looking up at him, grey eyes stone cold.

"Who are you?" she demands, looking absolutely livid, yet painfully sad at the same time. "Why are you here? Why'd you have to come and completelyfuck upmy life?"

Percy's a little taken aback. First of all, Princess Curls' eyes are practically shooting sparks. And second, _language. _She doesn't look a day over twelve years old. Third, everything feels wrong, almost like Percy was expecting a different response—a different reaction.

"Uh, I uh..." He rubs his eyes.

She sniffles. "I'm, um… I'm sorry," She chokes it out like she's never said it before. "Guess that was a little uncalled for." she says, forcing a chuckle that sounds more like she's got something caught in her throat.

Awkwardness beyond belief.

"What... can you talk?"

Percy coughs. "Um... yeah, actually." His voice sounds rough and scratchy, like sandpaper.

Princess Curls looks surprised. "Well, the mute finally speaks!"

At Percy's questioning glance, she points outside. Light.

"You've been here over a week, been awake, eating ambrosia and whatnot, but you never spoke a word. You looked like you were in another world. Or at least another time."

Warning bells.

"Okay..." Percy rasps out. He's feeling lightheaded.

"You look tired. Go back to sleep, I guess. Bye, Green Eyes."

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Something's just _wrong._

_Calm down,_ he tells himself. _It's probably just the ambrosia. That's what the food of the gods will do to you. Wait... How do I know that?_

Something's wrong. Definitely, awfully, wrong.

_'Not wrong, Percy, just off-balanced. Something happened... I can't say too much. Just sit tight. We're sending people in.', _a voice says, seeming to emanate from his chest.

"Who are you?" he whispers out loud.

Silence.

There's a cold feeling below the hollow of his throat, like an ice-pack being pressed against his skin. Percy looks down, just for the sake of it, not expecting to find anything. And gasps.

Because there's a stormy grey amulet hanging around his neck, a color that makes his stomach pull.

And it's glowing.

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>For the rest of the week, Percy basically alternates between sleeping, eating, and staring at the orb around his neck. He begins to get used to his surroundings—even though he can only stay awake for a half an hour at the most before crashing, he's memorized almost every detail of the room. After all, there isn't much <em>to <em>memorize_. _It is a pretty small room.

Since he came to this place, he's only seen two people; if you could even count one of them as an actual "person." A bulky, surfer-esque man Percy assumes is a bodyguard is there, sitting in the corner, almost every time Percy opens his eyes. He would be your typical (extremely strong) guy, except he has eyes covering every square inch of his body. It's kind of unnerving, but by now Percy's pretty used to it. And it's not like he had much time to ponder it.

The other person is Princess Curls, who comes, Percy figures, at least three times a day. She's always mumbling some nonsense, her straw-colored hair askew and her stormy eyes flashing as she spoons mush (It can only be described as such.) into his rather unwilling mouth. Needless to say, he's fascinated.

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>Percy first gets up and walks a couple days later, according to his not-very-trustworthy internal clock. His knees wobble, and by the time he makes it to the spacious deck at the front of the house, he's totally out of breath and puffing like an old man. He's still pretty proud.<p>

Percy sits down on one of the lean-back chairs and looks at the glass of amber colored liquid Grover gave to him. "It'll give you a taste of home," He had said, looking entirely too nervous.

He talked to Grover earlier that day—and it was an ordeal. Grover practically peed himself apologizing, but it was nice seeing him in his characteristically panicked (and not unconscious) state. Percy had millions of questions, but Grover skillfully sidestepped them. He was starting to get seriously annoyed.

Percy takes a sip from the red and white straw. The drink looks so good, and it even has one of those fancy little umbrellas in it.

He takes a sip, because it can't hurt to try.

As soon as the thought crosses Percy's mind, he recoils in shock. The drink tastes too much like fresh out of the oven (_famous, blue_) chocolate chip cookies. A lump the size of Texas gets caught in Percy's throat, just thinking about _cookies_, which leads to _Mom_. Mom. He thinks of her proud smile every time she would set a chipped plate stacked to the brim with blue cookies in front of him, and the lump grows. _Where are you mom? _he thinks.

Percy looks up at the squeak of an ancient wheelchair.

"Ah, hello Percy," Mr. Bruner says, smiling at him with that mischievous expression that always catches Percy off guard. "You must have a lot of questions."

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>Mr. Bruner—ah, <em>Chiron—<em>tells Percy everything. And "everything" is completely crazy. But for some reason, Percy doesn't feel that shocked. Like he was expecting to be the son of some ancient god. Uh-huh. But it feels… right, somehow. And Percy can't shake the feeling.

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><p><strong>AN: T**hanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, etc. this story. I love you guys! :) If you confused about anything, feel free to ask.****

**~Selena **


	3. Chapter 2: The One

**A/N: T**his chapter's in Annabeth's POV. I wanted to take on Annabeth because I wanted to show other things happening that Percy isn't aware of. The chapter starts out a couple minutes before Percy arrives at CHB, then goes from there.****_  
><em>

****Enjoy!****

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><p><em>Dedicated to:<em>

_indigo colored rain, for the pep-rally style reviews that make me want to write even faster_

_TheUpdateQueen, for being the best twin ever (love ya, Tori)_

_Terri M, for teaching me a couple things about Canada ;)_

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><p><span>Chapter 2–The One<span>

_~ Annabeth's back aches. Her head hurts. She hasn't slept in two__—no, make that three_— days_ and by the look (and smell) of it, a shower wouldn't necessarily hurt either. So why, when looking at the beat-up, pale boy lying on the cot in front of her, does she feel so calm? ~_

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>Slash. Jab. Duck. Roll. Again.<p>

Slash. Jab. Duck. Roll. Again.

Slash. Jab. Duck. Roll. Again.

Slash. Jab. Duck_—_

"Annabeth!" The cry comes out of nowhere, startling her and jolting her out of her rhythm. Annabeth stumbles before regaining her footing, sheathing her dagger with a grumble. She turns, looking for the source that interrupted the death of the Arena's not-so-fortunate training dummies.

"Annabeth!" A son of Hermes comes stumbling forward, face red with exertion. He seems surprised that Annabeth's training in the pouring rain, but continues anyway. "I looked all over for you," Pant. "There's this… this," Gasp. "This… " Wheeze. "Half-blood… monster… huge! Chiron… Big House…" He opens his mouth to say something more, but she's already gone.

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>A million and one thoughts race through Annabeth's mind as she runs. <em>Not another death…<em> she can't bear to burn another shroud, see more devastated and let down faces. She can't bear to let the memories resurface.

Lately, more and more half-bloods have been dying. And they weren't the normal a-monster-killed-them-on-a-wild-rampage-deaths; they were out of the blue, completely mysterious ones. You'd see the kid at lunch that day, muttering to his/her self, and you'd think, "Okay, well, everyone's a little crazy around here."

They'd be dead within the hour.

No one knows the source of it—Annabeth's been analyzing the situation every spare moment she has, but she keeps coming up with nothing. There's no similarity between the victims—no common ground. It seems like they just roll over, dead. And for all Annabeth knows, that's exactly what's happening.

A sudden boom of thunder snaps Annabeth out of her thoughts, and she focuses on the task at hand.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Annabeth pounds on the Big House's door, impatient and completely soaked. Guess she doesn't need a shower anymore. After a couple more noisy "bangs" she's had enough and just picks the lock.

Huh. The Stoll Brothers would be proud.

"Chiron!" She shouts. "We've kind of got an emergency here…" Annabeth's voice trails off. He's not there. And she is not looking forward to another midnight panic run in search of Chiron.

"Ahem." Annabeth nearly jumps out of her skin. Turning around, she sees Chiron in full horse-mode, face grim and serious. "We've got company in about three… two… one..."

They both turn around to see a wet, disheveled boy with mussed black hair and confused bluish-green eyes, looking like he just got hit by a bus. His eyes roll back and he collapses on the porch at their feet.

Well whoopdee-freaking-doo. Chiron the fortune-telling centaur.

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>"He's the chosen one, I swear it."<p>

Whispered voices wake Annabeth from her fitful sleep in one of the Big House's many guest bedrooms. Chiron let Annabeth stay overnight, but failed to remember that the walls of the Big House are _very _thin. She pulls the covers over her head and tries not to listen.

"I know he's young but he's going to have to be strong. We all know he's up for the challenge. You know yourself. You've seen him and the girl in action before! Don't lie to me—you remember."

Obviously, the blankets aren't working. Annabeth groans and pulls the pillow on top of her head along with them.

"I know. But there has to be a sacrifice in order for this to work out. We cannot fail!"

The whispers get louder, more agitated.

"Annabeth will understand."

And with that one sentence, those three words, Annabeth's fully awake and listening. Her bare feet hit the smooth, slightly worn surface of the floor in a millisecond. She tiptoes to the door—_just two steps_—and slowly eases it open, wincing at the long, low creak it makes. Peering out into the hallway, she sees a slice of light under the third door down, on her right. A couple more steps.

Annabeth's lucky these doors are so old they still have keyholes. Pressing one eye against it, she gasps. Hera (_is this a dream?_) stands in the worn office, practically glowing, lighting up the dimly lit room. So this is what it feels like to be in the presence of a goddess.

Chiron stands across from Hera, agitated. It's obvious they're arguing.

"Well if she doesn't she'll have to get over it!" Hera exclaims, barely maintaining her calm demeanor. "There's more at stake here then some petty little girl's feelings!" She spits, far beyond whispering. Annabeth's prepared to run in there and knock some sense into the almighty Queen of the Gods, but Chiron beats her to it.

"You'll talk nothing of Annabeth that way! The girl's merely sixteen years old and she's already performed more courageous acts then you, Hera, have performed in a millennium!" Annabeth almost gasps. She's never seen Chiron this angry, with his fists clenched and—wait.

Sixteen? Her twelfth birthday was in October. Annabeth's confused about a lot of thing, but she knows for a fact that she is _not _sixteen.

"That's enough. I'll have no more of this ridiculous discussion. Annabeth and Percy will be separated and that's that!" Hera vanishes, leaving nothing but the smell of lilies and Annabeth's shaking hands behind.

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>Annabeth tells Luke everything the next day.<p>

It's partially just to get his attention, because these days it'll take something like a drakon in the boys' bathroom (long story) to snap him out of the frustrating mask of indifference he's taken on lately. And it almost does it.

They're sitting at the edge of the canoe lake, Annabeth reveling in this rare, calm moment with Luke by her side. When she tells him, she's met with silence. Not quite the stony, cold silence that she's been getting more and more frequently; no, but something near the quiet, contemplating silence she used to associate with Luke. Then he speaks.

"I knew this would happen—the gods are already plotting about you, trying to screw your life up," Luke goes on bitterly. "We all gods damn know that's what they do when they get bored."

Although Annabeth should be, she isn't shocked. This is New Luke, and this is how he thinks.

"I don't know…" She says hesitantly. "I kind of want something exciting to happen. Maybe that new kid is the one… the one I've been waiting for." Annabeth knows she sounds like a dreamy prick, but she can't help it. She's subconsciously been thinking that since last night, almost believing it.

Annabeth _is_ surprised when Luke laughs at her, a cruel bark. "Yeah, right Annabeth. You're going to be some hero and save the day," He goes on sarcastically. "Chiron's going to let you go on a quest. You'll find true love and all that crap. Face it Annabeth, it's all a load of bullshit. Who died and made you so delusional?"

Annabeth stands abruptly. She turns to go, not wanting to let Luke see the tears pricking her eyes.

_Thalia's off-limits._

Luke reaches for her arm, realizing too late. "Wait, Annie. I'm sorry. Look, you know I didn't mean it…" She shakes him off, stalking away.

Old Luke _so_ wouldn't have done that. But again, this isn't "Old Luke".

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p>Annabeth, on a sudden streak of charity and good will, (<em>ha<em>…) volunteers to take care of the new kid while he's recovering.

Big mistake.

He moans every _two seconds_, refuses to just _sit still_, and is starting to seriously creep her out.

The first time he opens his eyes, Annabeth realizes with unsettling shock that number one: no, his eyes are not blue with green flecks, but solid green; and number two: he's crazy.

She spoons some oatmeal in his mouth, he swallows. She waves her hand in front of his eyes. He blinks. She pinches his arm. He flinches. But when she tries to talk to him, she's met with dead silence.

His eyes are cloudy, like he's not really there, and it's starting to, ahem, scare her. He _can't_ be The One. He just can't.

Finally, a couple days later, he speaks. And honestly, she's really shocked.

Annabeth had another fight with Luke earlier, another bout of him shooting her down, making fun just because she mentioned Percy's emerald eyes. She isn't in a good mood and she finds herself snapping at him. Well, actually, more like swearing. (And hysterically crying, but let's not mention _that_.)

He's oddly cool with it, if not a little surprised. Annabeth notices that when he's actually conscious his eyes are brighter, more lively, and—to her great fear and Luke's great anger—she finds she likes it.

"What was your name again?"

Two beats of silence, almost like he's forgotten. But then with an uncomfortable cough, he meets her eyes. Grey against green.

"Percy. Percy Jackson."

"Ah, well _Percy Jackson,_" Annabeth replies with a hint of a smile. "You have a lot to learn."

Even when he grins back, ocean eyes dancing, Annabeth can't help but feel… unsettled. Has she heard the name Percy before? It isn't very common.

And then it hits her.

"_Annabeth and Percy will be separated and that's that!"_

Shit.

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you liked! ****Review, pwease? *bambi eyes***

**"_The first time you don't take care of him, boom, he's out," Fang said. "Understood?"_**

_**Angel's face lit up, and she threw herself into Fang's arms while I gaped at him. He hugged Angel back, then caught my expression. He shrugged and let Angel go.**_

**_"She made Bambi eyes at me," he whispered. "You know I can't resist it when she does Bambi eyes._" —Maximum Ride, The Angel Experiment by James Patterson **

**~Selena**


	4. Chapter 3: Death by Mike

__**A/N: I feel so bad right now. Explanations at the bottom. **

****[*I don't own Tropicana orange juice, or PJO, for that matter*]****

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><p><em>Dedicated to:<em>

_dang3rOusbunnY956, for understanding & supporting me (and I'll admit - I copy and pasted your name!)_

_ivyflightislistening, who has awesome stories and wonderful reviews to match_

_Nilly's Issue, for not being afraid to say what she means, or in this case, write :)_

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><p><span>Chapter 3 - Death by Mike<span>

_~ Some people get this feeling, a tingle on the back of their neck or a shiver down their spine when there's trouble. When something's not right. Your senses are the oddest things, popping up at times when you most desperately need them. People have said to have gotten this feeling right before a big car accident, or when someone close to them dies. Percy got this feeling as soon as he looked in the Oracle of Delphi's cold, dead eyes. ~_

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><p>~o~<p>

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><p><em>"... and you shall fail to save what matters most in the end."<em>

The eerie green wisps of smoke waft back into the Oracle's mouth, taking the vision with them. Percy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block it out. It feels like it affected him more than seeing a dead mummy open its mouth and speak. Yeah, go figure.

Gabe. He finally thought he got rid of him, finally thought he shed that part of his life. Guess not. Percy's worst fear up and decided to haunt him again. His ugly, lazy, self-righteous _fear_. Unwanted memories fill his mind, clouding it like someone's breath on a window clouds on a cold day.

Gabe hitting his mom when he thought Percy wasn't looking, Gabe screaming at him, Gabe drunk, Gabe stupid, Gabe calling him 'Brain Boy', Gabe laughing, laughing, laughing at something he couldn't see. Gabe raising his fist over Percy's head and his mom getting home just in time to stop it. Gabe when he knew she wasn't going to be home for a while, what he did. _Gods. _Gabe_._

He's so dizzy. Percy reaches out blindly for something to hold on to, something to keep him upright. His hand connects with the smooth, worn surface of a table.

Catching his breath, Percy looks around the dimly lit attic, careful to avoid the corner where the Oracle sits. Silence. Then there's the faintest bit of movement, the tiniest little '_snap_'... and cursing.

"_Shit!_"

Percy focuses on the area opposite of the Oracle, hidden behind various mementos and discarded treasures. He's met with wide gray eyes, staring back at him.

"I saw that." she whispers, still crouched behind a broken bust of Hermes. A Yankees' cap sits a couple inches away from her knee.

"No dip." Percy whispers back, surprised at how calm his voice sounds when he's nothing close to calm.

She narrows her eyes, focusing intently on him. To put it lightly, it makes him nervous.

"You're hiding something," she accuses, eyes still narrowed into slits. "What's with your reaction? I mean, The Oracle can make _anyone _feel unsettled, but you got the willies when the vision appeared." she says, with a contemplating tone, like she's thinking aloud. When she gets no reply, though, her words are once again edged with hardness and laced with a bitter kind of despair.

"Well?There's honestly nothing scary about a bunch of fat dudes playing poker, Percy."

And she's crossed the imaginary-line.

"You wouldn't know _anything _about that, Annabeth. You don't know anything." he replies, hands forming fists and teeth clenched hard. Percy knows he's overreacting, but he still feels so weird after seeing Gabe. He's feels angry, like punching a wall just to see it cave in.

There's a hurt shine in Annabeth's eyes, visible even in the rapidly darkening room. The sun's going down already.

"Whatever, Percy," she says, arms crossed. "But just so you know, _never ever _tell a child of Athena they 'don't know anything'. Because first of all, you're wrong, and second, you're lucky I didn't run you through." she enunciates every word precisely, like he wouldn't understand if she didn't. "Oh, and I _do _know some things about you."

Annabeth turns to go, but Percy catches her arm. He has to know what she means, and in order to do that, they can't be fighting.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But... you..." he runs his hand through his hair nervously, huffing, and blows a strand from the front of his face. "... You don't understand."

With that, Percy climbs down the attic's narrow stairs, leaving fifty discarded memories, a dead Oracle, a magical Yankees' cap, and a very confused girl behind.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>As soon as Percy steps outside of the Big House, he's bombarded by both Chiron and Grover, who's eating one of the guardrails on the side of the porch like a ham-and-cheese sandwich.<p>

"Hey Percy!" Grover bleats, brandishing the rail like a baseball bat. Percy ducks, narrowly missing getting whopped on the side of the head. "Oops! Sorry!"

Chiron, on the other hand, looks decidedly bleak. He beckons Percy over to his side. Chiron stares off towards the horizon, the sun dipping down below the strawberry fields. It's huge, and as orange as a freshly-poured glass of Tropicana orange juice. There's no sound for moment, just quiet except for the munching of the guardrail, courtesy of Grover.

Then Chiron turns to Percy, and he swears, he sees a lifetime flash before his eyes.

A powerful fork of lightning in his hand, smooth, shiny pearls, a scorpion's bite, sailing an enormous sea in a beautiful ship, a chariot race, a girl with blue, blue eyes, and a cold, snowy night. The weight of the sky stretching above him, dancing in a fancy room, a maze, a battle, a girl with red hair, and a death of someone important. Another battle, a choice, and a tall building, standing among the rubble. Victory. A kiss. Then everything's gone.

Percy blinks, feeling nauseous. He realizes, with a start, that what felt like five years only lasted a single second. Grover's still mid-chew, and Chiron is still turning towards him.

Whoa. Percy guesses ambrosia and nectar can make you very, very _drunk_.

Chiron smiles, like he knows what Percy just saw. Grover finishes his rail and reaches for another, but stops at the glance Chiron throws at him.

Percy tries to explain that the food of the gods made him a little tipsy.

Chiron holds up his hand. "All in good time boy," he says. "Now, what about that quest?"

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Before he knows it, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover are standing on Half-Blood Hill, getting their final look before they leave. It's drizzling, and Percy can tell Annabeth's not happy about it. She keeps mumbling things like '<em>Have to be separated...' <em>and '_This isn't supposed to happen!' _over and over again. Grover's wet—and a wet goat is an unhappy (and smelly) one. But the rain... the rain strengthens Percy. Somehow, with the rain dripping on his skin, he's not as afraid.

Keyword '_as_'. He's still terrified, rain or shine.

Before they go, Luke jogs over, his wet shirt sticking to his tense muscles. He's carrying a pair of royal blue high-tops in his hand. Annabeth seems to get even more agitated with Luke's arrival. Her back stiffens and her mouth sets into a hard line, like she's trying not to cry.

Percy fights the random urge to hug her.

Luke attempts to smile at Annabeth, but it looks more like a grimace. He envelops her into an awkward hug, and at first she's rigid. Eventually, though, she melts into him. Percy, again, ignores the impulse to punch friendly Luke in the face.

Annabeth looks reassured, but keeps throwing nervous glances Percy's way, which is starting to bug him. Luke hands Grover the high-tops, saying something along the lines of, "They'll be very useful" and "You really deserve him"

Something feels wrong.

At exactly 6 AM they depart in the 'CHB Strawberries' van Chiron provided. Or at least, that's what Annabeth says, according to the water-proof watch Luke gave her as a 'going away present'. Percy has a feeling he'll be hearing a lot more about the time.

As they drive away, Argus up front, Percy can't fight the sense of dread. Gods, what is he getting himself into?

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Their quest starts out decently. (Percy assumes—he's never been on one of these things before.) But around Route 89, they start to run into some serious problems.<p>

At first the van just shudders a few times—nothing major. Then it _clinks _and _clanks _and starts slowing. Percy doesn't start to get nervous until steam begins to billow out of the hood of the car. Argus pulls along the side of the deserted highway.

"Oh, well this is just fan-tastic." Annabeth huffs, slumping against the seat. Argus gets out of the van and opens the hood, causing even more steam to poof out. Argus coughs, his many eyes blinking.

"And I guess I'll be the one to have to go help him." she says. She jumps out, slamming the van door behind her and causing it to give another worrisome shudder. Grover chews on the headrest of his seat.

"She'll get over it," he pipes, "Annabeth's just in a bad mood because Luke said you would be the one to die." Grover throws the sentence out nonchalantly, like he doesn't realize what he's saying. Then he sits straight up with a gasp.

"Mama-Goat! I'm sorry Percy! You know I didn't mean it," Grover stutters, "Luke's obviously wrong, though. He's just guessing... baa!" Grover must feel pretty bad, because he only makes goat sounds when he's nervous.

"It's okay, Grover. I know I'm not gonna die." Percy replies, trying to sound confident. It doesn't work, because Grover rips the visor off and tears right through it.

Munching loudly, he answers, "I shouldn't have said anything! Don't believe Luke, okay Percy? And please don't tell Annabeth I told you!"

Percy has only a second to nod before the door opens with a loud _bang_.

"Told you what?"

Annabeth stands just outside the van, arms crossed. There's dirty stains on her orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt.

Grover bleats, and for a second it looks like he's going to answer, but he's interrupted when the van shakes violently. Annabeth screams. They're rising—literally. Percy looks out the window, shaking, which is veryunheroic, if you ask him. But he doesn't see anything. Then he looks up.

A huge, no a_ gigantic _bird flies above them, its solid bronze claws holding the van's roof. Its eyes are a bright, fiery red, and its beak shines, looking wickedly sharp. Grover's trying to chuck tin cans at it, but they fall a couple inches short each time. The bird appears to be laughing.

That's when Percy realizes that it intends to _drop _them. Twenty-feet down, to splat on the asphalt below. Annabeth and Argus look hysterical, but there's nothing they can really do.

Percy sits there for a heartbeat, completely lost, searching for the hero inside of him. _Is this destined to be my life? _he thinks, _Death by giant chicken?_

Then a plan hits him, and he never associates death with chickens again.

Percy turns to Grover, dragging him along the back of the van, closest to the bird's rear.

"C'mon, G-Man."

Grover looks confused at first, but then it dawns on him. He shakes his head vigorously.

"No—no. No way, Percy! That's insane!" he protests, fighting Percy's grip on his backpack. Percy just looks at him.

"Let's play a game," Percy says, and Grover looks at him like he's gone crazy. "Would you rather! Okay? Would you rather jump onto a demonic chicken's back and _risk _death, or plummet to the ground at 60 miles per hour and _guarantee _it?"

Percy cocks an eyebrow, and Grover regretfully follows him.

The bird's squawking, swinging the van back and forth to cause maximum damage. And maximum impact. Percy swears that if he lives, he's going to count every single bruise.

Percy steps closer to the window, getting a closer looks at the bird. He realizes something and curses at the same time. Heroes can multi-task.

Instead of normal, downy feathers, the giant chicken has sharp, razor blade-esque ones. Great. But the bird, who Percy decides to name Mike, is getting impatient. So Percy uses his backpack for a cushion, tells Grover to do the same, and jumps.

For a second, he feels almost certain he's going to fall. But then his backpack hits Mike's back with a jolt, and he's still alive. Grover follows seconds later, landing towards Mike's bottom with a squeal. Yes, a squeal. Percy promises to never tell anyone about said noise, then focuses on the matter at hand.

Down below Annabeth's making wild movement, obviously trying to tell Percy something. There's so many thoughts racing around in Percy's head, but one stands strong: _Does not commute! Does not commute!_

Annabeth kind of looks like she's doing the Macarena, until he focuses on her hands. They're making a slicing movement down towards her arms, over and over again.

_She wants me to cut off my arms? _He thinks, before it hits him. _Oh. _With flourish, Percy takes out his ballpoint pen. Even from here, he can see Annabeth's confused expression. He uncaps it, and it grows into a beautiful, bronze sword. Percy slices, down.

What he fails to realize, though, is that Mike's wings are made out of solid metal. It's like trying to break ice with a crayon. It doesn't work. So Percy stabs Mike in the eye, (_sorry, Mike_) and it manages to confuse him long enough. They go plummeting.

Percy isn't sure who's screaming—him, Grover, Mike, or all three of them. Right now, it doesn't really matter.

They hit the ground with a loud _boom_, and Percy slices his thigh along one of Mike's deadly feathers.

"Shit!"

The pain blossoms, but Percy can't think about it at the minute. Him and Grover jump off Mike just in time.

Annabeth stabs upwards, missing Mike by centimeters. He turns on her.

_Squawk!_

It sounds more like a sonic boom then the average sound an over-sized chicken would make, but Percy doesn't really question it. Annabeth's blown ten feet back, landing hard. Mike shoots towards her. Percy slices with Riptide, but it only manages to scrap across Mike's feathers. He can picture Annabeth turning into chicken-chow, and the thought makes him _sick_.

Argus jumps before Percy can blink. Mike full-on body slams Argus, sending them both flying, far. Percy knows Argus is dead as soon as he hits the ground.

Percy wants to cry, but he can't, because Mike's already starting to struggle up. Without thinking, Percy slashes Mike's exposed stomach, which is actually composed of normal (pure gold) feathers. Giant chicken disappears in a burst of yellow dust.

And with a gasp, our so-called hero collapses in pain. The world blurs again, and he's out like a light.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Argus. Nooo! I'm sure a lot of you are hating me right now, but I had too. Drama FTW! ******As for my absence, my family's going through a rough time. My two brothers were in a car accident in December, which left one of them (Jake) in a wheelchair permanently. It's hard. But we're going to live. Just... send your prayers, or whatever you believe in... like, for Jake's sake.**

**I'm back on FF, but updates will be a little more random. I promise to not leave big gaps though. ****I love you guys. *insert heart FF won't allow***

**~Selena**


	5. Chapter 4: Nothing At All

****A/N: This is mostly a filler-chapter, but it's still filled to its chin with angsty drama. You'll love it, I'm hoping. And I'm sorry for killing off _ and _! It simply had to be done, and it involves a lot of foreshadowing.****

* * *

><p><strong>Recap time: <strong>Percy gets his prophecy. Percy was abused by Gabe. Annabeth is on to it, and might already have known. Grover chews on guard rails, Chiron shows Percy his life. Luke gives Grover flying high-tops, something isn't right. Mike attacks. Grover throws tin cans, Percy gets injured, and Argus sacrifices himself. Annabeth's distraught.

* * *

><p><em>Dedicated to:<em>

_percyjackson987, for the fantastic reviews_

_livingondaydreams, for her continuous support_

_indigo colored rain, for being her awesome self (and her 2,000 word reviews)_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4 - Nothing At All<span>

~ _Sometimes, it's nice to know you're a demigod. Besides the whole you-might-get-eaten-and/or-exploded-by-various-monsters-at-any-second part, of course. It's nice to know you're a demigod, because you always have someone to blame when things turn out less than alright. For example, when you almost just got pulverized by a giant metal bird, you're dragging a black-haired boy that you more or less hate behind you, and Grover's playing Hilary Duff on his reed pipes on top of everything else, you know that some divine force is really trying to mess up your day. That, or you just have really bad luck. ~_majorly altered quote from the Lightning Thief, Chapter 11—by Rick Riordon

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Seeing Percy up on that <em>stymphalian <em>bird took Annabeth's breath away. Because a) She didn't realize how important he is until he almost died, and b) He looked pretty damn heroic. Which annoyed the Hades out of her.

Those are both, she concurs, arguably justified reasons.

Annabeth, with Grover's help, drags Percy to a small cave he had spotted earlier. Grover drops him with a wince-worthy _smack_, while Annabeth rummages through her backpack for some ambrosia. Ripping of a piece of her shorts, she makes a bandage for Percy's thigh. It's deep—and got to have hurt.

Chewing on a tin can, ("It's classic comfort food."), Grover offers to collect some firewood. Annabeth just nods, deflated. She slumps against the wall of the cave, watching Percy. A hint of drool drips down his chin. Annabeth sighs.

It doesn't really hit her until a couple seconds later. Annabeth feels numb. Then the pain sets in and she's wishing she was unfeeling for the rest of her life. _Argus. _Oh gods, Argus.

She's just preparing herself for a nice, chest-heaving sob, when Percy's annoyingly long eyelashes flutter open. He looks confused, but then his expression changes to a look of pain. It hits Annabeth like a well-aimed punch.

And, of course, she screams at him for it.

"Percy Jackson, what the hell were you thinking? You could've been smashed, or crunched, or slimed, or vaporized, or exploded, or—or _killed!_"

She's standing above him, pointing her finger, which is shaking pretty hard. (She ignores it.) It's funny; Annabeth didn't realize she was thinking all these things the whole time. It's only after the words pour out of her mouth that she really listens to them.

"I—I... I could have lost you! How would I finish the quest? It calls for three people, Jackson. Three! How dare you almost die and leave me here with Grover!"

Annabeth guesses yelling at Percy is the only thing keeping her from yelling at herself. He seems already immune.

"Where...?"

Annabeth, temporarily finished her tirade, sits back on her heels. "He's out looking for some wood. It's getting cold, smarty-pants."

He swallows, and Annabeth knows what's coming. She's afraid to hear the question, but even more afraid to answer it.

"Argus?"

Annabeth closes her eyes, looping the same strand of hair around her finger over and over again. Loss and guilt hit her with the force of a tidal wave. Percy nods, pulling himself upright. He glances at Annabeth, almost like he's gauging his chance of being stabbed. Then he brushes some bangs from the front of his eyes, and leans forward.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," he whispers, green eyes focusing so intently on _her_, like it's his life goal to make sure she's never upset, always protected. The gaze throws her off-balance, and all she can do is sit there and stare back, floundering like a fish. "Argus wanted to protect you. It was his choice. Don't feel like you forced _anyone _into _anything_." Percy's speaking so confidently, so sure of what he's saying. Annabeth can see the pure belief shining in his eyes. All she can manage is a small, barely noticeable tip of her head.

Percy offers a half-grin, lighting up the dismal cave. It starts raining again, tiny, clear droplets against the slate-gray, endless sky. The _pitter-patter _of the rain against the ceiling creates a gentle, lulling music.

Percy turns over, ready to sleep. Annabeth pretends not to notice when he clenches his teeth. A fresh blossom of red seeps out of the cut on his thigh.

Annabeth leans back, using the slope of the cave as a pillow. She understands what Percy means, honestly. That doesn't mean she believes it, though. And the more she _thinks_—actually thinks about Argus, the bigger the lump in her chest gets. Annabeth doesn't realize she's sobbing until she feels Percy's hand on her knee.

One look from him sends her over the edge. She curls into herself, trying in vain to hold back the tears, which just make them come harder. She's literally bawling, her tears landing on the floor of the cave, mixing with the sound of the rain.

Annabeth thinks of her half-brother, Malcolm lying on his death-bed, moaning something about evil spirits. Remembers his tense face finally going slack, his eyes falling closed. Castor following. Dozens of others doing the same. She thinks of _death_. Too much gods-damn death. She can't take it.

"I can't take it," Annabeth whimpers. "I can't."

She feels like she's burning up. She leans against something soft and warm, tears soaking fabric.

"Shh," Percy whispers, somewhat awkwardly. It vibrates through his chest, and Annabeth doesn't even think about why she knows that. "It's oh-okay." The slight shake in his voice tips her off.

_Great._

Annabeth sits up abruptly, hair askew and eyes red. The front of Percy's shirt is soaked through, and she blushes. He does too.

"I... uh." Percy says intelligently. Annabeth shoves him off, ignoring the butterflies fluttering in her ribcage. She stands, adjusting her shirt.

"I should... probably go check on Grover," she says to him, pretending the last ten minutes never happened. She does her best impression of a statue—totally unfeeling. "He's been out for a while. Wouldn't want him to get caught in the rain." she spins around, exiting the cave before he can utter a sound.

When she gets back later with Grover, he's fast asleep, his shirt bone-dry.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>They set out a couple hours later, braving it through the drizzling rain, much to Grover's complaint. Percy's limping, but insists that he's fine. Annabeth walks next to Grover to keep from reaching out and helping him.<p>

The dense forest towers above them—all brambles and vines and billion-year-old oak trees. Rain makes the dirt under their feet turn to thick, smelly mud. Annabeth trips and curses every three feet, falling over roots and smacking into greenery. Every so often she gets a mouth-full of plant.

It's around the seventieth time this happens when she loses her cool.

"Fuck you, nature," she huffs, her unruly hair picking up another bramble. "Fuck you."

Percy ignores her (like he's been doing all throughout this little stroll in the woods), but Grover looks pretty offended. He bleats and gives Annabeth a look.

"This is The Wild! The glorious, beautiful, organic Wild! The splendid, fantastic, majestic, love—oomph!" With that, Grover walks head on into a tree.

"And it's quite wonderful." Percy snickers, helping Grover up. He has dirt all over his face and what looks like some kind of nest in his horns.

"Word." answers Grover blearily.

What seems like hours later, the forest starts to clear. They come across a building, eerily quiet. Statues line the entrance: gnomes, satyrs, fairies, and centaurs all captured in time. The utter detail of each and every one almost frightens Annabeth.

The statues are covered with ivy, rusting and decaying in some places. They walk a little closer and come face to face with a long, low building, with a once lit-up neon sign. It takes Annabeth several minutes to decode the wording.

"Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium." Annabeth whispers, as not to disrupt the silence.

Percy's eyes narrow as he surveys the landscape.

"It's too... quiet. Deserted, even." he says, hand shoved in his pocket. Grover's teeth chatter as he brushes dirt off his face.

"I don't like it!" he says. "Let's leave, quick, Annabeth."

But Annabeth's entranced. There's something... something mesmerizing about this place. She has to see.

"No... It's fine. I have a feeling. We have to get inside." she says to them, eyes focused on the building.

Some invisible force seems to pull her towards it. She walks dreamily to the entrance, tugging on the rusted door until it shudders open. Grover and Percy follow tentatively behind her.

Once inside, Annabeth picks up the faint smell of... cheeseburgers? And something darker, underneath. A faint breeze blows through the room, although Annabeth swears she closed the door. Beer bottles and poker chips lie scattered on the floor, beat-up and dirty. Percy looks jumpy, his face pale in contrast with his dark hair.

"Let—let's go, guys. There's nothing to see here. There's obviously no one home," Percy hovers near the door, for once not taking the lead. Once he realizes no one's going anywhere, he turns three shades paler. "_Please_. Okay, Annabeth? We have to go, I have this feeling." he fidgets with his t-shirt, fingers shaking slightly.

But he stays with them, no matter how scared he looks. Anger builds up in Annabeth's chest - anger and fear and loss.

"You just want to leave because there's poker chips on the floor." Annabeth spits. One look at Percy's face is all it takes for her to wish with all her might that she could take. It. Back. Percy looks shocked, like someone stabbed him in the chest, then twisted the knife.

"How did you...?" he asks incredulously, green eyes boring into her grey ones. When she just stares back, he shakes his head slightly, then throws down a piece of paper and stomps off. The door slams behind him, echoing in the quiet.

Two beats, and then:

"What was that?" Grover stares at Annabeth, eyes unbelieving. She turns, picking up the piece of paper Percy dropped.

It's one of those missing kid flyers, with the words 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?' printed in block letters across the page. A picture of Percy is front and center, and it's obviously a couple years old. He stands in front of a tiny, beat-up but homely beach house, the waves crashing in the background. He's grinning, arms crossed cockily and hair—like always—framing his ocean eyes. If you squint, you can just make out a faint bruise on his neck, bluish-black and angry looking. Percy grins on, nevertheless. The sentence, 'If found, please contact Mr. Gabe Ugliano at 413-353-7598' is printed underneath the photo. Annabeth wants to spit on the name.

She crumples the paper back up and turns, forging deeper into the building.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>They walk through Aunty Em's whole emporium, stopping to stare at particularly creepy statues. The whole time, Annabeth's insides hurt. She doesn't understand why she was such a bitch to him. She doesn't understand why she <em>is <em>such a bitch to him.

They're just heading back when Grover jumps three feet in the air.

"Ba-ah!" he bleats. Annabeth opens her mouth to ask, but Grover beats her to it. "What was that?" he says, panic laced through his voice. "Something... touched me!"

Every single hair on the back of Annabeth's neck stands up.

"_Oh, darlings,_" a raspy voice says from the shadows. "_I've been waiting for you!"_

Annabeth screams.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****Thanks for reading! I love to hear feedback and comments. Was it drama-filled enough for you? Do you think Annabeth knows about Percy's abuse? Why is Grover so endearingly oblivious? Is there going to be a virtual funeral for Malcolm and Castor?**

**So, yeah. Review, loves. :)**

**~Selena**


	6. Chapter 5: Jellybeans

**.**

* * *

><p><em>Dedicated to:<em>

_kitkatt4eva, Dovewings of Narnia, waterpoloplayer, wisegirlindisguise, SparksFly97,_

_—Love you all!_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5 - Jellybeans<span>

_~ It's funny, the way things work. Not laugh-out-loud hilarious, but pretty funny. It's funny how one little thing can put your whole mind_—_your whole self_—_into perspective. Percy stares and stares and stares at those poker chips. He stares so hard his eyes water. (At least, that's his excuse.) You would think when you're so scared; the world would seem kind of dull. It's the exact opposite. Everything's too bright, too loud and noisy and scary. Poker chips were always the warning—if it was one thing Gabe cared about, it was those chips. So when they were on the floor in plain sight, you knew he was drunk. Whenever Percy saw those chips, his whole body tensed, trying to disappear, shrink into the faded walls. (It never worked, in case you're wondering.) So now as he stares, his whole world is put into perspective. His life is ruled by an overweight walrus of a man who ingests more beer than food. It's a low blow. Percy's never felt so... worthless. Ha, and they said he was a hero. ~_

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Annabeth's face is a face filled with pure disgust. Disgust; disgust at him. It mars her (admittedly) pretty face and turns his stomach into a bowl full of searing acid.<p>

"You just want to leave because there's poker chips on the floor."

Her face is angry, eyes sparking while Percy struggles to remember exactly why she's so mad at him. Then what she says registers, and his heart drops to his toes.

How?

The next few seconds happen in a whirlwind, tiny pieces of time stitched together to form a picture that he can't see. The next thing Percy knows, he's walking out the door, slamming it. He takes off at a run.

How could Annabeth possibly know about Gabe? Why the Hades does he care so much?

Maybe it's the part of him that wants to move on, the part that wants to forget everything, start anew. Maybe it's the part that craves her attention, the weird feeling he gets when she stands an inch too close. But that's all bullshit, and Percy knows it. Because Annabeth _hates _him (which she's made pretty obvious), and knows that he's a spineless little kid who can't stand up to the person who hits him.

And he hates her, he's decided. He can't waste his energy on someone who treats him like the dirt under her converse. He can't.

Percy stops at a statue of an older satyr that oddly resembles Grover. It even has a reed pipe in its left hand, every detail noted, right down to the cracks in places where the bark had worn. Suddenly it's quiet, save his labored breathing. Screw her. Everything hurts. He touches his neck, closes his eyes. Breaths.

At first, he thinks the sharp pain on his neck is simply psychological, an afterthought. Then the pain's searing, and his eyes spring open. Percy pulls up his shirt, looking down.

_Gods. Not again_, he thinks.

The grey orb he had discovered in the cot at Camp Half-Blood is back, burning brightly. It blinks urgently, sending wave after wave of panic throughout his body. Something's wrong. Something's _wrong_.

He runs towards Aunty Em's; and the closer he gets, the more painful the orb becomes. This can't be a coincidence.

A piercing scream echoes through the clearing. He already knows it's her, like it's ingrained in his being, written on his very soul.

It's a certain girl's scream, a girl with messy blonde hair that's piled atop her head in corkscrews of honey. Annabeth's scream.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>The first thing Percy sees are jellybeans.<p>

Literally, technicolor ovals of sweetness lay scattered around the floor, some crushed by an abnormally large foot, others unharmed. They look surreal, the party of colors contrasting drastically with the dirty, depressing walls of Aunty Em's.

Percy's gaze sweeps the room, panic rising in his chest. His eyes fall on a small doorway, barely noticeable in the failing light. The actual door is blown off of its hinges.

Percy walks (runs) into the room and is met with a sight he'll never forget.

A monster stands on its hind legs like a human, in the middle of the room. Its eyes are a sickly yellow, and inside its blood red mouth are long fangs. Sharp, ugly claws glint from its hands and feet, and barbs stick from its tail. The terrifying thing is, though, that it doesn't appear to be fully there. It flickers and flashes; it's body alternating between black, grey, and white; like darkness itself. Gravity doesn't seem to exist near it, the very air and shadows twisting away. A forked tongue flicks behind its fangs.

Annabeth's on her _knees_ in front of it, her shoulders shaking, eyes wild and unfocused.

The monster's terrifying yellow eyes stare at Annabeth, and Percy can't imagine what he'd do if they were turned on him. It's laughing, and anger bubbles inside of him.

"Percy, over here!" Grover's shaky voice calls from the top of an overturned refrigerator. He's throwing jellybeans at the monster, but each time they bounce off harmlessly. Hasn't he learned anything from Mike? Small projectiles _do not _faze extremely large and scary creatures.

Percy takes one step towards Grover, but instantly, the monster's on him. It runs into him, knocking the air out of his lungs, holding him down. It takes all of Percy's willpower not to scream bloody murder. In the corner of his eye, he sees Annabeth shakily get to her feet.

"Perseus, we've been waiting for you to join us!" it cackles, its breath smelling like a New York sewer. "I am a _koblos_, in case your muddled brain hasn't realized yet. That queen of yours was able to hold us off for a while, but not long enough, eh?"

Percy doesn't know what the Hades this _koblos _is talking about, but he does know one thing.

"Don't freaking call me Perseus! It's Percy!" And with that, Percy spits in the _koblos' _ugly face.

It's shocked for a few precious seconds, long enough for Percy to draw Riptide. Before the monster knows what's happening, Percy sliced down on its tail. It screeches in agony. Grover tosses some green jellybeans their way from the top of the fridge, for good measure.

Then pain explodes in his shoulder—the _koblos' _nasty claws rakes across it. Percy allows himself to scream this time. Ow.

Riptide slashes, and the air yelps.

Hold on.

There's hot breath in his ear, and Annabeth's whispered voice.

"I'm using my Yankee's cap, dumbass. It makes me invisible. Watch where you swing that thing, will you?"

Percy tactfully ignores her.

The _koblos_ yelps in pain as (at least Percy assumes) Annabeth's dagger swipes its left ear. Then her Yankee's cap is knocked off her head by one of its claws. You can practically hear the profanities Annabeth's thinking. The _koblos _stands there, looking at her and smiling evilly. It seems to be reading her very self.

"Well, well, well, daughter of Athena," it starts, circling her. Annabeth eyes him suspiciously, dagger raised. "Looks like you have some secrets of your own." it says it in a playful voice, but the glint in its eyes give it away.

"Shut up," Annabeth snarls, dagger clashing against the _koblos' _claws. "It's none of your business you dirty little pond scum!" the monster catches her chin and she yelps.

Percy's mind is racing. More secrets?

"What do you mean, Annabeth?" he asks, blocking a blow from the monster aimed at Annabeth with Riptide. "What secrets?"

The _koblos _chuckles, baring its fangs.

"Oh, Annabeth knows, Perseus. She knows, and all in good time, you will find out!" it turns to Annabeth. "You can't keep a secret so large forever, girl. You would think you would be a little more _wise_!"

She practically growls, eyes shooting sparks. No one would stand up to the intensity of her gaze, but the _koblos _just stares back casually. Annabeth jabs it in the side with her dagger, punching it in the jaw at the same time. But it's smart. Instead of retaliating towards Annabeth, it streaks towards Percy. She just barely blocks the blow.

It continues like this for what seems like forever.

Percy thinks they're doing pretty well until the _koblos' _grimace transforms into a sneaky grin. Annabeth shoots Percy a panicked look - a look that's a millisecond too late. The_ koblos _turns towards Percy, and immediately, pain shoots through every part of his body. It feels like he's being dipped into a boiling pot of water like a lobster on Labor Day.

Percy drops to his knees, frozen, and understands what the monster had been doing to Annabeth. Then he sees the visions.

They're one sickly, disturbing, painful-to-watch image after another. They're so awful, he can't even repeat—think about them—without being wracked with pain. He feels like his brain is being turned to mush. And knowing the world he's been thrust into, it could be.

Faintly, he hears Grover's yelps in the background; but everything seems to be in slow-mo. Percy's eyes just can't tear away from those images.

A scream breaks through his trance, a scream he's only heard twice in his life. Percy looks up just in time to see a claw coming down at high speed, right for his head. He rolls, crashing into Grover's fridge. The _koblos' _claws make indents in the place on the floor his head had been seconds ago. Percy swipes Riptide clean through the monster, but it just flickers. It snarls at him, flashing its demon eyes—the eyes Percy is positive will be visiting him in his nightmares.

"I'll be back, Perseus! And you already know who I'll take with me next time!"

The _koblos _vanishes in a blur of darkness.

Then it's quiet.

He can barely catch his breath and come to terms with the fact that he definitely almost just died, before arms envelope him in a sweaty, bloody, painful embrace.

"_Oh-gods-how-many-times-are-you-going-to-almost-die-on-this-gods-damn-quest?_" The words come out so fast, Percy barely registers them. Annabeth's kneeling on the floor next to him, face scratched, bruises all over her arms. Her arms are still around him, and he notices that she's shaking. Percy can't blame her, though, because he is too. The _koblos _was something out of a horror movie.

"I—um. I guess as many times as it requires." he answers, not meeting her eyes. Gods, he's so embarrassed. He guesses he might sound a little abrupt, but he was never good with the manners thing anyway. Annabeth looks down, releasing him. The curls that have escaped her ponytail are stained with blood.

Grover sits next to both of them, those jellybeans still in his lap. Percy has no idea how he still has some left, considering they're scattered all over the floor. His Rasta cap is askew, and a long whiplash is torn across his chest.

"The tail got you, huh?" Is all Percy can think of saying. Grover nods and offers him a jellybean.

"What did the _koblos _mean when he said you knew who he was going to take next time, Percy? How do you know there's going to be a 'next time'?" Annabeth questions, her eyes squinty. She's not looking at him, either.

Percy just sits there, mouth opening and closing. He has the weirdest feeling. Like his brain knows the answer, but his lips can't form around the words. Like someone's preventing him from sharing - a censor built into his very mind.

He turns to her. This has to be said.

"Annabeth, I—"

The pain on the hollow of his neck comes back, full force. Percy doubles over in pain. He thinks he's moaning, but he's not entirely sure. That probably isn't the best sign.

"Percy? Percy!" Annabeth's practically on her stomach, leaning down so she can look at him full-on. "Percy, listen to me! What's going on?" her voice slowly rises to hysteria, grey eyes open wide. "Oh my gods Grover, what's happening to him?"

Percy's tries to motion to his throat, but judging by the way Annabeth and Grover are looking at him, they don't understand. After a few (extremely) painful seconds, she gets the message, locating the orb and ripping it off. Percy sits up, chest heaving. It bounces on the tiled floor like a rubber ball, still glowing.

Grover baas in shock. "Percy, that's a Communication Pendant! Only the gods have contact to them... They aren't used unless extremely necessary. Quick, we have to destroy it!" Grover bleats, jumping to his feet. He's ready to crush the thing with his reed pipes, but Percy interrupts him.

"Wait, Grover! No,"

Grover looks at Percy like he just suggested they do the hokey-pokey and spin it all around.

"Just wait."

The Communication Pendant keeps glowing, getting brighter and brighter. Annabeth stares at it calculatingly, like she'd stop anything it even _attempts _to do. But they all miss what happens next.

A wispy, faintly illuminated form slowly seeps out.

It's a beautiful girl with smooth, olive skin and dark hair braided down the side. She's wearing a classic toga lined with a rich purple, but something about it doesn't seem very familiar. Her brown eyes shine with a fierceness Percy can only compare to two other people—his mom, and Annabeth. She looks so perfect; he can't fully believe she's real. Slowly, the girl solidifies.

Percy and Annabeth jump to their feet, and rather unnecessarily (at least in Percy's opinion), Annabeth draws her dagger. Grover stumbles up a few seconds later, mumbling to himself —something about Alaska and ripped up teddy bears.

The girl eyes them coolly.

"Who the Hades are you?" Annabeth questions brusquely. "What are you doing here? You better not be some sorceress, because honey, we aren't in the mood for any of that crap right _now_. And—"

Percy nudges Annabeth, widening his eyes.

"Shh, Annabeth. Stop being rude!" Annabeth glares at him, but shuts up. The girl quirks an eyebrow and smiles.

"Hello, Percy," she says. Percy knows he should be bothered that she's only addressing him, and not Annabeth or Grover. But there's something more pressing at the moment. There's something... About that voice. He recognizes it—the superior attitude, the effortless grace. Then Percy remembers.

_Not wrong, Percy, just off-balanced. Something happened... I can't say too much. Sit tight. We're sending people in._

The voice he had heard when he first discovered the pendant.

The girl snaps her finger, and suddenly, she's lost her glow. She's in plain clothes—ripped jeans and a purple t-shirt. Her hair is braided messily down her back.

_Sending people in..._

"My name's Reyna. I'm sure you'll come across me in the future," she smiles, and the corners of her eyes crinkle. "I don't have much time—so I'm going to keep this short and sweet. If you haven't noticed, something's going on." her voice echoes ominously. Percy grabs a jellybean.

"Well, yeah," Annabeth replies, shoving her dagger back in its sheath. "Everything is. I've had this weird feeling ever since... Ever since Percy arrived on Half Blood-Hill."

Percy looks at her. He'd never heard anything about this. But he knows what she's talking about—that feeling in the pit of your stomach when something isn't going as planned.

Reyna nods.

"Yeah. It's serious, actually. You see, Percy, this whole world," she waves her hands around the room animatedly; "This whole world is, well, an illusion."

Grover and Percy simultaneously choke on their jellybeans. Annabeth crosses her arms.

"It seems pretty real to me!" she exclaims, stopping her foot on the ground for good measure. "I mean, I felt that koblos' claw. It was real." Annabeth points to the cut on her cheek, which is crusted with dried blood. Percy winces.

"Uh... yes." Reyna says, looking like Annabeth's reply wasn't on her script. "Yes," she amends, "It seems real, and partially, it is. I guess I didn't explain it correctly. We're in a different dimension. We're in... The past."

They stare.

Reyna coughs awkwardly, looking more real with her hair frizzy and her jeans dirty. "Percy went back in the past to... Save someone."

"Save who?" Annabeth demands. She seems a little too interested, at least for someone who hates him.

"I'm afraid that information is disclosed," Reyna answers, grinning. "The point is, Percy went back in the past to save someone. Save someone from something. So, essentially, if any of you guys want to survive—if you want Western Civilization to survive—you're going to have to defeat that something pretty quickly."

The room explodes, three voices screaming for attention at the same time, and one voice trying to quiet everyone down.

"What? That's impossible..."

"Western Civilization? Like, cowboys..."

"Do you happen to know Juniper Rosebush? She's this really cute dryad..."

"...Thanks for telling us earlier! We have so much to do..."

"...'Cause I'm pretty sure Western Civilization already ended. How old are..."

"...Really want her number..."

"...Is Luke aware of this? I have to IM him..."

"...So, I was like, yeah, duh, but then she said, no, and it was so confusing. Can I get treatment for this cut? It's pretty nasty..."

"...Because it would be awesome if we talked!"

"...Yeah, and this amazing structural plan..."

"...What does Reyna mean? My star sign is a Cancer, I think..."

Reyna stands there, exasperated.

"This is important. This is your future. It's serious, guys. There are lives—there have been lives—on the line."

Annabeth huffs indignantly.

"I am being serious!"

Percy shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped once again. The temporary high he was in seconds ago is gone. Because with his ADHD, it takes a couple seconds for information to sink in. And this sure is sinking in. _Hard_.

Reyna looks them each in the eye.

"If you don't succeed, the future—the things you have done—will cease to exist. It will disappear, totally. You'll be stuck here, with the consequences. So basically, the world will be over, so it won't matter anyway.

"Everything was going accordingly. Except... I guess, Hera was in a rush. Time got misplaced, things aren't going as planned. Like, right now, you guys are supposed to be searching for the owner of a pink poodle. Obviously, that isn't happening."

Percy looks over at Annabeth, who appears thoughtful. Her eyebrows had shot up the second Reyna had mentioned Hera, the Queen of the Gods. (Percy's proud that he at least remembers that.)

"Four years have to pass for things to be set into action. Sadly, we don't have that much time. But there's an easy solution for that."

Percy's stomach drops.

"You see, all I have to do is age you guys. Oh, and speed up your quest, just a tad." Reyna waves her hand dismissively, like she's saying it's raining so they can't go outside. Percy can tell Annabeth's pissed.

"Okay, wait. Hold on. What do you freaking mean, age us?" she yells, getting worked up.

"I mean exactly that. I'm going to age you. Three years, to be exact," she says to her, then turns to Percy. "Oh, and it was nice meeting you as a little guy. You're just as tough," there's a laugh in her voice and a kind smile on her face, but what she says troubles Percy. Reyna starts to fade, slowly returning to her faintly glowing, transparent state. "Goodbye for now, guys. Good luck. You'll need it. Try not to get killed!" she waves, like ta-ta. Go set out on your quest of doom. Pick me up some french-fries. Percy smirks at the thought.

She disappears and the orb melts like an ice-cube. Percy's relieved until he feels the familiar cold feeling of the pendant against his neck. Damn.

Annabeth turns to him.

"So, you guys seemed pretty chummy, huh?" she questions. It doesn't even make sense, and Percy tells her exactly that.

"Besides Annabeth. We don't remember anything from the future! So how would I even _remember _if we were friends?" Percy asks incredulously. Annabeth just looks at him, her lips curved slightly downward.

"Whatever, Percy. What were you going to tell me before the orb exploded? Remember?"

Oh, Percy remembers. He's dreading what he has to say though, so he avoids it.

"Nothing, Annabeth." he lets his hair cover most of his eyes, not looking at her. His eyes betray everything.

Grover speaks up from where he was silently observing the whole conversation.

"Uh... guys?" he says tentatively. "When is that 'age change' supposed to set in?"

A thoughtful expression comes across Annabeth's face.

"Well, actually Grover... I don't know." she answers, head quirked to the side.

"Hopefully never." Percy grumbles.

The orb gets colder. Percy feels the pain start, so he rips off the necklace just in time. Reyna's form seeps out again, her hair even more disheveled.

"Gods, guys. I forgot!" she exclaims.

Before Percy can protest, she's pointed at them. Everything goes black.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>The first thing that hits him is the heat. It has to be at least one hundred degrees. He's already sweating.<p>

Opening his eyes, Percy looks around. The floor sways beneath his body, which is slumped on the floor. It's dark, and he can hear faint breathing next to him.

Percy rolls over, standing up. _Whoa_. The ground looks farther away than usual. He looks down, and there's Grover, eyes close. He has a... beard? And his acne's cleared up a little. His hat lies by his feet, and Percy notices his horns have grown past his curly hair. With a start, Percy looks around wildly. Where's Annabeth?

There. She's just to his left, lying on her stomach, breathing slowly. And wow.

She looks... beautiful. Her hair's grown out, which is weird, and her legs are way longer. Percy struggles to remember what's going on. He has the worst headache...

Annabeth stirs from behind him, and he turns around. She's sitting up slowly.

He attempts a feeble grin, trying not to look at her grey eyes. Oddly enough, she blushes, quirking her eyebrow and looking at him long enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Oh gods."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: In case you're confused, PERCY AND ANNABETH HAVE NOW BEEN TURNED TO FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLDS. So they are no longer twelve and will now be from this point, fifteen. And y****es, that was Reyna. Yes, that was a _koblos_. Yes, Grover was throwing jellybeans.**

**If you can, check out my one-shot, 'Firmitas'. It's kind of a back-story to the beginning. Love yous!**

**~Selena**


	7. Chapter 6: Plastic Guitars

**A/N:** I think you guys will really like this chapter. (*coughPercabethcough*) Give me any CC.****

* * *

><p><span>THE PAST: Chapter 6 - Hades &amp; Plastic Guitars<span>

"Shut up and put your money where your mouth is; That's what you get for waking up in Vegas"

—_Waking Up In Vegas_; Katy Perry

* * *

><p>~ <em>Falling through a figurative rainstorm isn't the best thing you can do on a Saturday afternoon. After all, Annabeth could be curled up in her cabin, on chapter twenty-eight of her new architect book right now. But no, she's falling through a rainstorm. (Figuratively, of course.) Which brings us back to the topic on hand. All she knows, Reyna<em>—_sparkly, beautiful, attention captivating (at least in Percy's opinion) Reyna_—_pointed at her and poof! Her soul felt like it was being ripped from her body and she was falling, wet particles clinging to her skin like rain. Ears pounding, head rushing, blood pumping. She's falling, head over heels. (And it has nothing to do with love.) She can barely collect herself before she turns one more time and tumbles into a hard, flat surface. It's so... hot. Dark. ~_

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Green eyes and sweat dripping down her brow. Those are the first things Annabeth's aware of. She sits up with a groan, elbow skinned and throbbing. Green Eyes is still looking at her, she can feel his stare. (Don't ask her how.) Blinking the moisture out of her eyes, she turns to address him with another hefty sigh.<p>

Her mouth opens to lecture him on the rudeness of staring and how it's right up there with finger pointing, but then promptly falls shut. Um.

Annabeth's brain's doing overtime, still catching up. Percy stands there, gaze expectant and impatient, muscles tensed—Whoa. Muscles? She squints. Yep. He's taller, and she obviously doesn't have the ego-booster of being able to see the top of his head anymore. He grins lightly, and she's struck by how... amazing he looks. Which is weird. Totally weird.

"Oh _gods_." she says appreciatively, before snapping her mouth closed, pressing it into a firm line. Since when did she become _impulsive_? This doesn't make any sense. Until she remembers. Reyna.

So she's fifteen now. Oh-kay. If she's fifteen, Percy is too. And that will explain this whole thing. He has freaking _abs_. The world has gone to Hades.

Grover moans at her side and she turns; checking his pulse simply for the sake of having something to do. Percy's eyes bore into the side of her head. She shakes Goat-Boy awake and takes note of his goatee, the horns poking up, no longer hidden by his curly hair. She slaps his Rasta cap back on his head before he's fully conscious.

"So," she starts. "Any idea where we are?"

Green eyes narrow down, seeing right through her. "Um. Somewhere hot?" his voice raises at the end, questioningly. Annabeth sighs, because obviously, she's back to doing all the work. She stands, her knees making a painful cracking noise. How long have they been lying there anyway?

Grover stands behind her, bothering her by the fact that she is now the shortest person in their group. She walks from under the shade of the alley into the bright, unmerciful sun. Squinting, she can easily guess where they are. Casinos, mini-pyramids, fake palm trees and two—no three—replicas of the Eiffel Tower. A place with no architectural feats whatsoever. A place where there's more glitter and overly-priced mementos than people.

"Vegas," she says, turning once to make sure they're following her. "Come on. We need..." the heat and exhaust from the cars make the air in front of her shimmer and wave. "Water."

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Two hours and fifty liters of sweat later, they still haven't found a place that will give free water to a bunch of dirty teenagers.<p>

"It's the hat!" Grover says while they trudge through yet another empty alleyway. "It's just so pure genius—I mean look at this thing," he points to the battered hat on his head, colored in extravagant red, yellow, and green; grinning wildly. Annabeth's sure it's the heat getting to him, if nothing else. "My hat is such a pure work of art it's offending all of those lousy casino owners. Because, duh, of course they'd want one! But it's limited edition! So I really have to apologize, guys. It's all my fault we're not getting any water." he finishes, not looking the least bit apologetic.

Annabeth huffs, her hair plastered to the side of her face. And she considers, just for a few seconds, chopping it all off with her dagger. Maybe ripping up Grover's hat while she's at it, too. Just to be helpful.

They turn the corner of the amazingly-long alley, and hit a dead end. A complete dead end. She feels like crying. Grover's the first down, slumping against the annoying brick wall that had to bethere, blocking her way. He's still muttering about hats. She follows, because she's nothing if not practical. They're completely lost.

It's too quiet, though. Something's off.

"Where's Percy?" she whispers to Grover, stomach sinking. "Oh gods, we freaking _lost _him!" She's mulling over when she had last seen him when he rounds the corner, face naturally unconcerned. She should have known. Right then, she decides she's too exhausted to yell at him.

"I found water!" he declares, hands shoved in his pockets, t-shirt drenched with sweat. Annabeth's eyebrows shoot up. "There's a casino you guys walked right past—the bellman there's insanely nice," he continues, eyes alight with excitement. "He said we could come in for free, but I had to get you guys first. Come on, hurry up!"

Percy pulls both Annabeth and Grover to their feet, practically buzzing with barely contained excitement. Annabeth almost gets swept up in the joy of _fresh cold water _and _nice people_, but hesitates. There's something... almost drugged about Percy's demeanor, the unnatural glint in his eyes. She crosses and uncrosses her arms, stuck.

Percy shifts from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder every other second. They stand there in the sunlight for two more minutes until he obviously can't wait any longer. He grabs Annabeth's hand - _stop daydreaming_- and yanks her along.

"Percy, are you high?" she asks quizzically. He just looks at her. Grover's now leading the way, unable to resist Percy's manic excitement. And when they reach the front doors, Annabeth understands why.

It's beautiful; from the carvings on the door frame to the elaborate molds along the walkway. It's beautiful, and frankly, kind of hard to miss.

"I can't believe I didn't see this. Are you sure we passed this way?" she questions, head tilted to the side. Percy's bouncing. He's like... like an annoying puppy or something. "Because—" she pauses. Did she really just _smell _that? A heavenly perfume wafts from the doorway, reaching her nose and pulling her towards it. What was she doing here again? "Come on guys, let's go in." she says. Her voice sounds dreamy, trance-like; which should probably be alarming. But it's the best smell she's ever smelled and she just has to see where it's coming from.

Percy and Grover look relieved. They step inside. Big mistake.

The lobby is extravagant. There are more games than she can count, and she can count for a pretty long time. Kids and teenagers run from station to station, smiling those face-splitting smiles that can only come from pure happiness. The whole room is decorated neon, strobe lights flashing. It should be disorienting, but it's not—which makes it even more fascinating.

"Welcome, to the Lotus Inn and Casino!" a voice screams in her ear, all fake-cheesy-show-host style. A man with slicked back hair and an expensive suit waltzes up to them. "I do hope you enjoy your stay." he shoves cash cards into their hands and strolls off. Grover's face looks blank.

"What just happened?" Percy asks.

Grover grins boyishly. "I don't know!" he answers, like it's the best thing in the world; to be clueless.

Annabeth looks around. It's paradise, but something feels wrong. It's that weird feeling she's been getting since this whole thing began. And each time, she's listened to it.

"Guys, we're not staying here for long, okay? We just need some... some water," It feels like a cloud is passing over her eyes. What did they need to do again? And what was her name? "Uh," They were looking for something. Weren't they? "Rooms! Yeah, rooms. Let's just go... to our... rooms."

"Yeah..." Percy answers dreamily. "Rooms."

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>And so begins, as Annabeth likes to put it, their descent into hell. (Or Hades. Whatever you fucking-want-to-call-it.)<p>

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>The next few days are a whirlwind of fun, fun, fun. There's always something nagging at the back of her mind, but she ignores it. She hasn't laughed this much in ages. It doesn't seem like hell (Hades) but it is. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself when she's caught having too much fun. Laughing all day long can't be healthy. Side effects, right?<p>

She learns a lot of things. Like Percy _hates _pickles but loves blue food. Any blue food. (Well, except for blue pickles. He says they're just gross.) Plus, she's pretty good at video games and is killer at the water-slide races, even though Percy tries to cheat every other time. Grover's taking a liking to Guitar Hero, or at least a rip off of it. He's beaten all the high scores ever completed in the hotel. Plus, it's really funny seeing him jump up and down with the fake guitar, curls bouncing.

Life is fun if you live it the right way, she thinks. And damn, this is _definitely _the right way.

But she can't sleep. She can't sleep no matter how hard she tries, no matter how much she exhausts herself throughout the day. She can't sleep, and that's how she learns so much about Percy.

Turns out, he can't sleep either.

"Let's play a game," he says at quarter after twelve. She cocks an eyebrow, but he continues anyway. He's not giving this one up. "It's called 'Truths'. You take turns answering questions—any questions at all—completely truthfully. You lie, you're immediately disqualified. Whoever cracks first loses." They sit on a balcony overlooking the city; and his eyes shine, reflecting off the moon above them. "You game?" he grins a devilish, fifteen-year-old grin (she's still getting used to that) and she laughs.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asks, crossing her legs next to him Indian-style on the green-and-white striped pool chair. "But," she holds up a finger. "I go first."

Percy shoves her lightly in protest, but doesn't say anything. Annabeth starts because Percy's still grinning. "What," she pauses, picking at the hem of her shorts, "Is your favorite color?"

He just stares at her for a few seconds, then doubles over laughing. "That," he chokes, red-faced and still snickering, "Was the stupidest question I have ever heard." Annabeth crosses her arms indignantly, waiting.

"You going to answer the question, or is too hard for that seaweed brain of a head to process?"

Percy stops laughing.

"Wha—what?" he asks, eyes round. "What did you just say?" Annabeth stirs her ginger ale.

"Um. I asked if my question was too hard for you to process? Because if it is, Percy, it's fine, really. Just, uh, say so." she replies, half joking. His eyes are still round.

"No! No, before that." Frankly, Annabeth doesn't feel like playing _these _games, but answers anyway.

"Seaweed brain?"

Her mind races. _Seaweed brain. Where have I heard that? I_—

"Yeah. Isn't that, um, some old movie from the 80s? I used to watch it with my mom all the time." his eyes look cloudy again. She decides to ignore it.

"Uh-huh. Sure. So are you going to answer the question?" This seems to jolt him out of whatever trance he was in. He answers proudly that it's blue.

"I thought you would've guessed that, you being a know-it-all daughter of Athena." he taunts, eyes gleaming. She won't take the bait.

"Isn't it _your _turn, smarty pants?"

"Yes, yes it is." Silence.

"Are you going to. Ask. The. Question?"

"Yup."

"..."

"I'm thinking!"

"Well _there's _a shock!"

"Shut up! I can't think over your ranting!"

"Well I can't think over your stupidity!"

"That doesn't even make any sense...?"

"..."

"..."

"You're right."

"..."

"..."

"Got it!"

Annabeth exhales slowly, counting to ten. "Well then, Percy. What is it?" she asks slowly. Why does he have such a unique talent of pissing her off?

"I forgot."

She throws up her hands. "That's it, I'm out of here," Annabeth gets up, all ready for a smooth exit, when she knocks over that damn ginger ale. "Ugh! Shit."

She mops up the sticky soda with her jacket. "Okay. _Now _I'm out of here!" Percy tugs on her arm just as she turns to go, and their combined momentum sends her tumbling onto the pool chair.

"Mmph," Percy protests. "You're crushing me!"

"Well you're the one who pulled me on freaking top of you!" she exclaims. "What did you expect?" She pulls her head back, eyes level with his... lips. They looks smooth, round, pink-ish, soft...

"Annabeth?" She startles. He's staring down at her. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

She doesn't answer though, because she's staring at those lips again. And the bridge of his nose, four tiny freckles splattered across it. His eyelashes, again too long... and his eyes... Staring right at her. Gods.

"Uh, you know when you're fifteen? Is that usually when hormones kick in?" she blurts. His eyebrows raise, disappearing under the flop of hair across his forehead.

"I... don't know...?"

She feels like jumping off the balcony.

"Gods, sorry. I didn't mean it like that... I just... I... Um," He's staring at her with such intensity it's scaring her. "Now am I the one with something in my teeth?" she jokes feebly. He ignores her, still staring. Then his head is moving a little closer and - oh _gods_. (Again.)

Annabeth's always hated those cheesy romance novels, the ones that describe first kisses—or any kisses at all—as ooey-gooey marshmallow-y. Those lame books she always laughs at, the ones where the main character thinks kisses are fireworks, thousands of brilliant colors exploding as two lips touch. (Not that she's ever _read _one, nonsense.) She's always hated them, but never known why. It was just a fact of life, as much of a given as her hair was yellow and her mom was a goddess. Just there. Like this.

Percy's lips touch hers for oh, maybe five seconds, but it's long enough for her to realize all of those stupid books were true. She's seeing thousands of colors explode. (It's pretty cool, actually.)

He pulls away first, waiting for her reaction. She just sits there, cheeks red.

"Gods Annabeth, I'm so sorry... I don't know what I was thinking and..." He trails off, running his fingers through his hair, managing to make it stick up even more.

"No," she says, watching as his eyes drop and his uncertain smile disappear. "Don't apologize."

His smile's contagious, and she guesses hers is too.

Grover finds them the next morning, curled up on the pool chair, fast asleep.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>She's visited by a goddess the next morning.<p>

Out of all of Greek's royal, immortal family, Hera just keeps popping up. (Not that she's complaining, it's almost as cool as meeting the Queen of England.)

Her mouth is pressed tight, and something like ever-so-slightly contained anger burns in her eyes. Maybe the Queen of England is a better option.

"So, I heard of your... shenanigans last night." Annabeth's face turns red before she realizes it doesn't have to. How's it Hera's any business?

"How's it any of your business?" She knows she won't be zapped into ashes because (the gods hate to admit), she's needed. Annabeth can tell by the way Hera's fingers twitch that she realizes it too.

"It's entirely my business, little girl. Do you realize how much this is going to _change _things?" she rages, pacing. Annabeth's eyes narrow.

"What do you mean, 'change things'?" she asks, hands fluttering around her collarbone. "Change things how? You aren't _changing_ things, right?" she realizes she's panicking five seconds too late. Her hands swing to a stop by her sides. Hera regards her with cool indifference. It annoys her, because that's what _she _does.

Hera glances at the imaginary watch on her slender wrist. "Oh, look at the time!" she says sarcastically. "I have to go, so I'm cutting this whole little detour short. Ready to forget?" The Queen of the Gods perfectly plucked left eyebrow arches.

"Forget?" Annabeth sputters. Horror rises in her chest—no. She wouldn't do that. Hera taps her size seven stilettos on the tile floor. She would. "Hera, please, no—you don't know how... you can't..." she struggles for words.

Hera smiles a tiny little smile. A tiny little _evil _smile. And the words resonate in Annabeth's head once again. Of course she would forget them.

_Annabeth and Percy will be separated and that's that!_

Her life's a joke.

Hera snaps. She feels woozy, dizzy and uncoordinated.

_Don't forget. Percy kissed you. He kissed you._

A thick cloud hovers over her head, and she ducks, knowing she's just prolonging the improbable.

_Percy kissed you. He kissed you._

It settles on her shoulders and in her eyes like a dust cloud. She tries to brush it away but it sticks.

_Kissed you. He kissed you._

Her vision's all blurry and she has the worst headache. Where is she?

_You. He kissed you._

Then the pain sets in. It burns every inch of her body, her forgetting. More dusty-cloud-thing.

_He kissed you._

She's floating - literally, she thinks. Not entirely sure right now, though. She chokes on the particles of the cloud.

_Kissed you._

Then it kind of explodes; a great giant ball of, well, fluff. Ish. It burns as she tries to remember something - anything.

_You_.

It's dark. Again.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>When the cloud lifts, Annabeth's in a huge room—and there are so many <em>books<em>. She thinks she might be dreaming so she pinches her arm just to be sure. What's going on? She doesn't remember anything.

"Um... Annabeth? Hello? You're kind of staring off into space." Percy's smiling face comes to focus inches away from hers. What the heck? She's so disoriented it's funny.

"I... Where am I?" Annabeth's hair is disheveled and she's not wearing her Camp Half-Blood t-shirt anymore. Where is the gods damn thing? "How did I get here?" She looks around. They're obviously in a library; a fancy one at that. Books line every single wall, stacked high to the ceiling. But that's really all she knows.

"The Lotus Hotel. We've been here for three days. Are you sure you're okay?" Okay, hold on.

"What the _fuck_?" is all she manages. Percy takes several (surprisingly wise) steps back, holding up his hands in surrender. "Three days... three days... We have to get. Out."

Annabeth jumps to her feet, but Percy gently blocks her with his arm.

"Why?" The question's so simple she's at a loss for words. One whispered question and she's rendered speechless by a boy with green eyes still clutching her arm.

"Do you really not remember anything about the hotel?" he asks, eyes so innocent it kills her.

"Yes," she replies. She remembers their quest... searching for water for two whole hours. Then Percy rounding the corner. All of a sudden she's here. "What... what's today's date? Oh gods, Percy _move_. We have to leave. Now." He lowers his arm, just barely. It's in front of her hips, still blocking her. Why is he so strong?

"Wait. You said..." he hesitates, struggling. "You said you never wanted to leave. I thought..." he trails off, eyes distant. Annabeth places two hands on her hips.

"_What_?" she practically hisses. Judging by the way he flinches back, she's gone too far. But she's so confused. The world is insane. She has no idea where her mind has been for the past _three days_. She wants answers, but it doesn't seem like he has any. "You know what? I don't have time for this," she continues, hating how mean she sounds. But you try having a seventy-two hour gap in your brain. "Tell Grover to pack. We're leaving."

The hurt in his eyes is fiercely... there. Not hidden. Anyone could look at him and know he's in pain, which bothers her even more. It's called _filtering your expressions_. She shoves past him, pushing the doors open. She leaves at a run.

_Grover, Grover, got to find Grover_, she chants to her footsteps. She starts to feeling dizzy again, but she can't lose focus. Annabeth pulls the neck of her shirt up to cover her nose. She can't smell those Lotus flowers.

Grover's at a music-themed station with a crowd cheering around him. Guitar in hand—singing awfully, mind you—he's on a ten minute streak. Kids clap and hoot, dancing in a circle around him. She shoves through, putting her elbows to good use.

"Grover!" she screams over the music. "Grover, we have to leave!" he's completely emotionless to the real world, eyes glazed over. And then she knows what to do. Bending down, Annabeth follows the trail of the cord plugged into the machine, yanking it out. The screen goes blank, and twenty teenagers start booing. Grover's eyes clear.

"What the nuts, Annabeth? I was just about to beat my highest score! I was on a role!" he shouts. She's never heard him raise his voice before, only on enchilada night at Camp Half-Blood. ("Could you please save that salsa for me?")

Reaching out, she shakes his shoulders, hard. "Grover, listen to me. You're under some kind of trance. Whatever you do, don't breath through your nose. We have to leave, okay?" his eyes widen with realization.

"Lotus Inn and Casino... Lotus flowers!" he bleats. He drops his plastic guitar like it's on fire, holding his nose. "Let's go get Percy!"

They meet him at the back exit, standing solemnly, shoes untied, three backpacks slung across his shoulder. He hands them to Annabeth silently. It's the most he's ever gone without talking in her presence, she's pretty sure. She should be rejoicing, but the victory's not there. The light in his eyes is gone. She'll ask about that later.

Escaping is actually pretty easy. Standing in a deserted parking lot when it's a hundred and ten degrees outside and Grover's rediscovered his reed pipes, though, is not. Descent. Into. Hell. (Hades.)

Yay.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Annabeth's never felt so stupid. They spent a week—a whole gods damn week—in the Lotus Casino. Inn. Whatever. Even worse, no one's willing to give them a ride. She consoles herself by concluding that hitch hiking isn't the best idea, considering it's the twenty-first century. All sorts of awful things can happen to you by sticking out a thumb. Annabeth's heard the stories. So that's out. Grover protests for a little while, until she tells him one of them. That shuts him up. Percy just rolls his eyes.<p>

And then, his freaking orb starts glowing. They're on the side of the East-52 freeway, in plain, vulnerable sight. She panics, and then... There. There's a ditch maybe twenty yards away, sloping downwards, out of view of the cars on the road. She grabs his arm and runs.

Six yards away it starts flickering. Five and he's doubled over in pain. Four and Annabeth has the genius idea of telling him to _take it off_. Three. Two. One, they jump and roll. Then it splits open.

The annoying thing is, when Reyna streams out, Percy smiles at her. He's all dusty and gross and has just ran forty feet all thanks to her; and he smiles. _Smiles. _She doesn't have the same hospitality.

"What do you fucking want now? Didn't we just talk to you?" She glares at the iridescent form.

Reyna smiles lightly at her. "Technically, I talked to you three years ago." Annabeth frowns.

"Long time no intrusion."

"Well, I guess I just _missed _you," is Reyna's sarcastic reply.

"Oh, gee, thanks. But no thanks," Annabeth just notices Percy and Grover have been watching them argue like a tennis match, heads swiveling back and forth. "What, are you turning us into forty-year-olds now?" she closes her eyes in mock fear, laying a dramatic hand over her forehead. "Please, just get it over with."

"Lay off, Annabeth. Jeez. What did she do to you?" Percy says to her. Annabeth's shocked by this sudden betrayal.

"I am shocked by this sudden betrayal." Oh, the melodrama. She should really consider a career in acting. Or she's woozy from lack of sleep.

"No, I'm just here to do your ungrateful little ass a favor. Another one, need I remind you," Reyna says, smirking. Annabeth starts protesting, but she speaks over her. "I'm going to allow you free transportation to Los Angeles," She pauses, as if waiting for an applause. When she doesn't get one, she continues dryly, "Oh, don't rush to thank me."

Percy makes an oddly empathetic face. "Reyna... what's the matter? You seem like something's bothering you." Reyna's sarcastic expression wavers. Annabeth hates the way he's looking at her.

"I... I—_we _just thought you guys would be finished by now. Long finished." she says, words tumbling over each other. She covers her mouth, like she's said too much.

"We?" Is Percy's answer, eyebrows drawn together.

"I can't really say anymore. Shouldn't have said anything in the first place," Reyna waves her hand in front of her face. "Anyways. Let's get a move on, people."

And from the air, a portal appears.

"Who are you, Reyna the Magic Women? Houdini's twin sister?" Annabeth snipes. Reyna ignores her.

"Step right up." she says, motioning towards the portal.

Percy's suddenly wary. "After you." he says, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. He always does that when he's thinking.

Reyna looks hurt for maybe two milliseconds, then complies.

"See, nothing to worry abou—" she says, voice echoing. Grover peers down the portal, face green.

"Well." Percy says, looking grim. "Let's, uh, save my mom. And get the Master Bolt. Can't forget that," Then he jumps. "It's fine! Perfectly fi -"

Annabeth looks down, and walks straight in.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Los Angeles is dirty, to say the least. She's kind of let down—the L.A. in the movies is gorgeous, palm trees waving and celebrities walking with designer bags along Beverly Hills.<p>

They had tumbled out of the portal onto an abandoned lot, overgrown with grassy weeds. Annabeth gets a mouthful of dandelions and various flower-impostors. She groans as she spits them out. Nature tastes _horrible_.

"Deja vu, much?" Percy jokes from next to her, his grin making a half-moon on his face. She can't look him in the eye, and it's weirding her out.

Reyna, of course, lands gracefully from the portal, brushing off her toga delicately. Annabeth wishes she would just change back into her dirty jeans, try to fit in a little. Make an attempt, at least.

"So," Reyna starts, eyeing a suspicious-looking hobo pushing a shopping cart across the street. "We need to get to the Underworld."

"What do you mean, we?" Annabeth questions, pulling a leaf (and a couple sticks) from her hair.

"I can accompany you to the entrance, but no further," she answers. "No direct interference from the alternate-future." The edges of her mouth tip down while she says this, like the concept is too terrible to even understand. Because really, an alternate-_future_?

"I really wish you'd tell us more about this future thing," Annabeth says, rummaging through her backpack. They only have three pieces of ambrosia left between them. "It's hard to complete crap quests when you know nothing about said crappy quest. I need details."

Plus, she wants to know if Thalia survived this alternate version.

Reyna holds up her hands helplessly. "I honestly wish I could tell you, guys. But it would ruin everything."

_Sure you do_, Annabeth thinks.

Percy stands up, looking weary. "That'd be great Reyna, really. Thanks for your help."

"It's my job." she replies, her toga materializing into a t-shirt and another pair of abused jeans.

Annabeth sighs in relief. Wouldn't want to scare any wandering crazies.

"The entrance to the Underworld," Grover says as they walk down the street. "That sounds... ominous, don't you think?" His teeth chatter.

Reyna smiles like he's an old friend. "Actually, no. It isn't scary at all—unless you're afraid of poorly recorded demos and 40s music," she answers, head tilted to the side as she walks. "The entrance to the Underworld is about five blocks away—DOA Recording Studios."

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>DOA Recording Studios <em>is <em>ominous, in a way. The brass double doors and sweeping windows give off an air of expensive merchandise and few customers, so Annabeth's surprised when she sees the lobby packed.

"This is just great," she hisses in Percy's ear. "How are we supposed to enter the Underworld with all of these mortals hanging around?" She hates how the panic is evident in her voice. Percy strains his head towards the lobby, taking in the crowd. His face is pale.

"I don't think those are mortals." he whispers back. His hand is shaking slightly as he points to one of them. Annabeth barely contains her gasp.

There's a man, maybe middle aged, sitting on one of the chairs in the lobby. He looks normal, until you look at his face. Or at the thing that once was his face. It's a black and red mess, impossible to make out any features except his mouth. Gunshot wound, probably. He smiles gruesomely. She feels sick.

"The dead. Ghosts." Percy whispers in her ear. She shudders as a little girl walks by with a severed rope around her neck.

"I—I can't." she shudders. Percy's warm hand envelops hers, and she feels horrible about whatever she did to hurt him.

"I know," he answers, voice uncharacteristically soothing. "I can't stop thinking... about my mom." His expression is poignantly pained. She squeezes his hand without thinking. He looks at her sadly. What did she do to him? What doesn't she remember?

Reyna and Grover catch up, and Annabeth watches as Grover's face turns white. _I know the feeling, buddy,_ she thinks. _Been there, done that._

Reyna, to her credit, looks a little queasy as she guides them up to the front desk. A thin man wearing an expensive suit peers down at them over wire-rimmed spectacles. They're like a one-way mirror—Annabeth can't see anything in them except her own face, wide eyes staring back at her.

"Why hello," he says meticulously, his accent sounding strange and foreign. "You aren't dead at all. In fact, you're quit alive, I'd like to say."

"Thank you...?" Percy replies before Annabeth elbows him in the gut. She steps forward.

"Um, yeah. Hi..." she looks down, squinting to make out his name tag, which is pinned neatly on the lapel of his suit. "...Charon," she finishes as he nods his approval. She twists her hands nervously under the cover of her windbreaker. "See, we need to ask a little favor. We have to get into the Underworld. Now."

The man—Charon—stares at her. It goes on for so long she wonders if he even heard her, if he's fallen asleep under those mysterious glasses. Then he tips them downwards, as if to get a better look at her. She's met with two empty sockets, his bronze skin contrasting eerily with the dark holes. Chills run up her spine.

"Well, little girl. That's a huge, and I'm afraid, impossible request." he flicks his glasses back up, clearly dismissing them. Anger bubbles inside of her.

"Now you wait," she exclaims. "My friends and I have traveled across the_ country_—"

"Um, my portals did help you!" Reyna cuts in, finger raised. Percy shoots her a look. She looks at him and shrugs.

"—and risked our butts to get here! We have sacrificed so much, and you will not—_will not_—ruin that for us. Now let us down there."

Charon is deadly quiet.

"Please?" she adds, somewhat feebly. Hey, it won't help if Charon vaporizes her.

"You insolent little _brat_," he spits at her. "I will not stand for your babbling. You have no right to talk like to your immortal elders that way. If you want to go to the Underworld so bad, why don't I just send you there, the easy way?" he threatens, voice rasping like a snake. He reaches towards a huge black button, the word 'Imminent Death' scrawled across it in block print.

"It's like one of those Easy buttons they sell at Staples." Grover remarks.

Charon's just about to press the Easy button that will end her life, when the elevator doors to their right ding open. Gruesome spirits part in panic.

A beautiful women, despite her pale skin and limp hair, steps towards them. She wears a dress woven with interchangeable flowers, which flicker and glow in the dim room. In her hand is a single pomegranate.

"Persephone," Reyna whispers urgently. "I have to go guys, and quick. I'm not supposed to be helping you. Good luck!" With that, she flashes away as Percy's pendant glows.

The goddess approaches, looking regal and calm. She whispers something in Charon's ear. His eyebrows shoot up.

"Ah, yes. Yes, I see." he says to Persephone begrudgingly. She winks at them and disappears in a cloud of flowers.

Charon laces his fingers together on top of his desk. "It seems like you three are, ah, _needed _down there after all," he says to them, lip curled with disdain. "I can't refuse the boss's orders, so... Follow me." Charon raises with a swish, walking towards the elevator. He stands there, pressing buttons. The clock above the elevator stops. He motions for them to come, as his Italian suit melts into a long, black robe.

Percy's eyes shine with energy and anticipation, while Grover turns three shades paler. She turns towards them.

"Guys, we're in."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **You know what would make me smile uncontrollably and probably squeal a little? A review from you, lovely. For more darkness, Percabeth, and Reyna-Percy sexual tension, visit my one-shot, 'Heroes'. Yup. ****

****Ciao,****

**~Selena**


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

~ Her favorite part of the day is that brief moment when you wake up and don't know who you are. For those few seconds, your memory is blank, your mind is clear, and there are an endless amount of possibilities before you. During those moments, you feel infinite. There is nothing you cannot do. Then the alarm goes off and the clouds cover the sun and there's clarity. You remember how messed up you are, and it all comes crashing down over your head. It feels like that standing in Asphodel's field, entirely endless. Hell itself. Shades chirp and chatter incomprehensibly and she envies their forgetfulness. They will stay in that blissful still-waking-up stage for eternity. She only dreams she could do the same. ~

* * *

><p>The quiet lasts for maybe two minutes. They stare out at the fields. They stretch for miles, colorless and depressing. Millions of ghosts drift aimlessly across the gently swaying grass. It's surreal to watch, because there is no wind.<p>

Percy lets out a long, low whistle. Grover still looks pretty shocked. Annabeth doesn't think he's gotten over the whole ghost-with-his-face-blown-off thing yet, let alone the Easy Button of Death. That goat has got a lot in store for him.

They wade a couple more yards, focusing on the looming, dark gates in the horizon. (The Underworld is huge, in case you haven't figured that out yet.) They're just passing maybe the thousandth cypress tree when an unruly specter latches onto Percy's arm. He looks ready to scream.

The ghost chatters, obviously trying to tell him something. It points to Annabeth every so often with a shaking, pale finger. Chills run up and down her spine like ants. They fight it off just in time for another spirit to approach them, this time with its arms flung wide, blocking their way.

"Could we maybe have walked through Elysium instead?" Grover questions. "I've always wanted to try a Pina Colada. Do you think they have pina coladas?"

Annabeth bites back a snide remark. She's so tired. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a dark shape looming in the sky, approaching them rapidly. Heart flying into her throat she ducks, pulling Percy and Grover down with her. They hide among the grasses.

"How are we going to even get to Hades? We stand out a mile away." Annabeth whispers as another winged creature flies overhead. It looks like a Fury, from what she's seen in books. Bad news.

Percy purses his lips, glancing around. The dull scenery just sets off his eyes even more; a beautiful burst of color in the shades of gray. He spots another specter and grins. Annabeth recognizes that expression.

"Okay, so..."

Twenty minutes later, they're just leaving. Because wrestling three ghosts out of robes they haven't parted with in centuries is a heck of a lot of trouble. They only agree to give them up after Grover gives them some of his jellybeans. They cackle excitedly in their new neon orange t-shirts, marveling over the wondrous feat of fake, condensed, food-colored sugar half squashed in Grover's pockets. Jellybeans are now forever going to bring back bad memories.

Soon enough (but not really), they're at the gates. They look amazingly more ominous up close. Annabeth notices with sick observance that the pickets are made of human bones. She raises her head, looking up. They must be at least thirty feet tall.

"Well," she says, measuring their chance of survival. "Up and over."

They're twenty feet up when Grover remembers he's afraid of heights. She almost jumps off.

"Grover, listen to me," Percy starts. He shoots Annabeth a look of total panic then turns his focus back to Grover, who's clinging to some bones twenty-seven feet up and refusing to move. "Just don't look down. Don't look down. I know that doesn't really help because you're probably terrified right now; after all if you fell you'd like, break all your bones and have a serious concussion—" She kicks him in the shin, eyes wide. Universally, that means 'shut-up'.

"—but that definitely won't happen to you because, you're um, Wonder Goat." he finishes, rubbing his shin. She doesn't know how he manages this since his arm is hooked around the side of the gate ten feet off the ground. She's barely managing to climb the damn thing and he's lounging up there. So much for being son of the sea god. Grover hiccups, terrified.

"Wo—wonder Goat?" he asks. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

"Um. Yeah." Percy answers convincingly. "Plus, uh, your Rasta cap kind of fell on the other side."

That gets him to the top in record time. They touch down in Hades' death court ten minutes later. The shadows seem to be moving. Maybe they are.

There are more human bones than Annabeth can imagine. Everything is dark and spooky and dreary.

"Where to now?" she asks Percy, trying to keep things a little light in the big dark. After all, it is his quest. Time to do some questing. But his teeth are clenched and his fists are fisted. Uh-oh. "Angsty Percy is back, huh?" she jokes.

"Yup." he answers, eyes narrowed at the towering spires. "That stupid feeling is back."

"How cliché," she agrees, taking in what looks like a mass grave. "This whole setting being all crazy-scary and all."

"Speaking of crazy-scary!" Grover whisper-yells, pointing at the walking skeleton. It holds a deadly looking spear and is wearing a tattered pastel tailcoat—breeches and all. The powdered, dirty wig on its head completes the whole dead persona.

"It looks like it was alive during the French Revolution or something." she whispers. She can't help it. Who's a history nerd? This girl.

"Isn't that when they used to cut people's heads off for bread?" Percy questions, looking alarmed. "Shit, we don't have any!" She shakes her head, bringing a finger to her lips.

"We just have to get past it."

Just then, Percy sneezes. The skeleton's head (skull?) swivels in their direction. It's empty sockets look straight at them. Then it charges.

"Nice job, genius!" she shouts. "Couldn't you have waited to sneeze until after this whole thing was over?"

They jump over a couple hand bones and hightail it around the tower.

"Sorry," he manages. "I think I'm allergic to death."

"You and me both," Grover sniffles.

The skeleton seems to have called in reinforcements, because suddenly even more pop up, dressed to match random time periods. Finally, Annabeth pulls out her dagger. Guess they have to fight. And her robe of death was new.

She slashes a Soviet spy's femur and nearly collides with what looks like a caveman. (Without all the hair.)

"Can't we just have a few blissful hours of no monster and/or dead people interaction? Is that too hard?" she screams at one. Then it pulls out a sniper. Oops. She ducks as bullets fire over her head. The smell of gunpowder makes the experience ten times worse.

"Percy?" she calls, craning her head. She sees him locked in battle with a skeleton Yankee carrying a musket and shouting something about Southern hicks and cotton taxes. Percy's confused expression is comically dangerous. "Seriously. We have to split. Like, now." she yells as the soldier finally realizes she's crouched on the floor. He points the gun straight at her. There's nothing scarier than staring down the barrel of a weapon that is about to blow your brains out. (Kids, do not try this at home.)

"Uh. Did you know that phobophobia is the intense fear of having a phobia?" She tries, like it's going to make a difference. The skeleton stares at her incomprehensibly and cocks the rifle. Hello, Death. Funny seeing you again so soon.

She squeezes her eyes shut and hopes it will be fast.

...

Why won't the damn skeleton just kill her already? Annabeth blinks, opening her eyes just in time to see the skeleton go slack. It collapses on top of her, a pile of bones. Blinking, she looks up. All around them, the skeletons are dismantled in heaps.

Grover stares at her, eyes wide. She raises an eyebrow at him. Then she realizes he's not staring at her. He's staring behind her. She whips around.

Persephone. Her floral dress glows and twinkles in the gloom, standing out almost as beautifully as a certain pair of green eyes. Hers, though, are deadly serious.

"All you had to do was knock on the door."

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>They follow Persephone into Hades' courtyard to a huge black door, guarded by more skeletal soldiers. She nods at them and they stand at attention. Annabeth bets if they could, they'd be leering at them.<p>

Believe it or not, Persephone actually raises her fist and knocks. Exactly like she said. The whole thing couldn't get any more surreal, until the doors swing open ominously, creaking on their rusted hinges.

The inside of Hades' palace is scarier than the outside. Which is saying a lot. Black fire burns in swinging lamps, hanging from rusty chains on a ceiling too high to see. A stale, chilling breeze whistles around their feet, carrying the whispers of souls long gone. They pass portholes and cages containing creatures that call out to them in high voices, creatures too terrifying to repeat. (Anyway, this is a PG-13 rated quest.) The closer they get to their unknown destination, the more goosebumps rise on Annabeth's skin.

Percy walks silently beside her, a wall of teenage turmoil. His eyes are cloudy. Oh great. "Aren't you...?" he mutters, staring at Persephone. "I, uh... Where's the cereal?"

That's it, he's officially jumped off the bandwagon. Turnip truck. Flaming chariot.

"Percy," she says, grabbing his elbow. "There is no cereal here. Did one of those zombie-skeletons poison you or something?"

Percy shakes his head, snatching his arm out of her grasp. Which, admittedly, stings. "No... no, I'm sure she was supposed to be eating cereal."

It's quiet. Annabeth stares at Percy staring at Persephone. Grover hums.

"Right." Annabeth exhales, pushing the hair from the front of her face out of the way. She gazes at Persephone expectantly.

The goddess sighs, shaking out her long tresses. She looks like she'd rather be anywhere but there, maybe having tea on Olympus instead of leading cereal-obsessed demigods to their (almost) certain deaths.

"Just a few more minutes. Hades is getting impatient," Persephone says. "And by the way, the cereal isn't until later." She winks at Percy before turning on her heels. His wide eyes meet Annabeth's.

"Well, I guess we have to follow her." she concludes.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Guess we do."

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, they're standing at the entrance to the throne room. It's massive, Annabeth can tell that, but a huge pillar blocks most of their view. As soon as they round it, she knows there's no going back.<p>

Percy steps behind her, his lips inches away from her ear. "I hate how... Dark it is." he says, sending shivers (the good kind) up her spine. "It would be beautiful, you know. If it didn't seem so evil." She nods her head, understanding his point. It is evil, all that death—it clings to everything. She turns to say so, not expecting him to be so close. They bump noses. And his lips are so close...

"Does... Does anyone smell french fries?" Grover implores, breaking them out of their bubble. Percy steps back abruptly, like he's just realizing what he was doing.

Annabeth backs up, mortified. She turns to the goddess instead of the boy with ocean eyes. "So. Anything we need to know before we face your husband? Any words of wisdom? Survival percentages?" She's silently hoping for a delay in their audience with the king of the dead.

"Ciao." Persephone says.

"No wait—" Annabeth protests. But it's too late. The goddess has disappeared in a cloud of petunias.

"Well," Percy sighs.

With a deep breath and (she has to admit) some whimpering, they turn the corner.

It's deadly quiet. (No pun intended. Honestly.) Annabeth's aware of every single breath she takes.

Her gaze sweeps the room, trying to absorb everything; memorize it. Her eyes focus on the corner on the right. Something isn't quite right there. The corner. It's... glowing? Behind a huge bust of a Fury, a luminous golden light shines softly. She rounds it slowly.

Annabeth's heart almost stops. In a dirty, circular cage is the frozen, terrified form of a women. Light emits from her, and every detail is intact—her disheveled hair, her bruised face, her wide eyes, and her lips, which form a perfect O. She doesn't want to call for Percy. She wants to make this cage disappear. She doesn't want to see his expression when he looks at her face.

In the cage is Sally Jackson.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>"Annabeth?" Percy calls. "Why are you back there? We need to find Hades." Panic rises in Annabeth's chest. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. Percy's rounding the corner, his voice getting closer. "Annabeth, I..." he trails off. She doesn't want to be here, doesn't want to be here, doesn't want to be here.<p>

"Fuck."

His eyes are wide saucers, and his hands are shaking so hard you would think the room was freezing.

"Fuck."

She doesn't know what to do in these situations, doesn't know what to say. Percy walks, zombie-like, towards the golden light. He reaches towards the cage but doesn't touch it, like it's some crazy illusion that would disappear if he touched it.

"Mom," he breathes. She would laugh at how slowly he's realizing that, yes indeed, this is his mother, if there weren't tears in his eyes. Annabeth flashes back to two nights before their quest began. The awful images—no not images, flashbacks—Chiron had shown her. The centaur had said she had had to know her partner's history. Annabeth would have given anything not to. And with those memories seared on her eyelids, she reaches over and takes his shaking hand. He doesn't even register her, just stares, shiny-eyed. She looks away. It isn't very encouraging to see the leader of your doomed quest crying. And when she watches his eyes fill with so much pain, she feels like crying too. That can't happen.

"Percy. Green Eyes?" she prompts quietly. "We're gonna get your mom out of there. I promise. We just have to find that bastard of a death god and set him straight." Percy looks at her, registering her face. She hates his expression. "You and me, okay?" she says, trying to sound confident but ending up sounding like a robot. Just then, Grover rounds the corner. Took him long enough. His eyes get huge.

"Mrs. Jackson!" he bleats, looking back and forth between the cage and Percy; like together they just might explode. Annabeth raises her finger to her lips, and Grover gets the message. Percy has the angriest expression on his face, like he'd blaze down an entire army with just one glare.

"Let's go find Hades," he says determinedly. "Now."

Annabeth couldn't have said it better herself.

So, weapons (and reed pipes) drawn, they walk to the center of the throne room.

"Hades!" Percy shouts, his voice echoing on the cold marble floor. "Get your ass here right now. I know you can hear me!"

Nothing. And then a tiny, almost indiscernible blue flame flickers to life on the tile before them. It grows slowly, gradually transforming into a ten-foot flame. Then it wavers, light bending, and Hades stands before them. Annabeth blinks. Twice.

"What is it, demigods?" Hades asks, sounding bored and slightly condescending. "I have an appointment at six." Percy's anger rolls off of him in waves, sending shocks of tension throughout the room. Hades, though, seems immune. "Oh I know what you want. You little mortals came to save the woman, didn't you?" Hades hisses, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger. "Well it's too late for that."

And then there's a hurricane in the throne room of the dead.

Percy's green eyes are dark, narrowed in grim determination. A whirlwind; a literal funnel of rain and wind and lightning surround him, blowing Hades back thirty feet. (Need she remind you - it's a big throne room.) The only dry spots in the room are where Grover and Annabeth stand, frozen in shock. Some kind of force field is surrounding them, blocking off Percy's hurricane. And just as quickly as it began, it stops. Percy drops to the floor, speechless.

"Whoa," he whispers. "I have no idea where that came from."

Grover touches his goat hair, surprised that it isn't soaking wet. "Perce, I think it came from, uh, you." he baas.

"You're traveling with utter geniuses, Percy Jackson," Hades says sarcastically, suddenly dry again. "But I must say, I'm impressed. I didn't predict your powers would develop so quickly."

"Looks like you're going to have to suck it up and buy a new freaking Magic 8 Ball," Percy spits. "Now I want two things, and them I'm out of here. One, give me my mom, or so help me, I'll... I'll..."

"You'll what, Percy Jackson?" Hades questions. "Blast my undead warriors with your rainstorms?"

Annabeth shoots Percy a look before he can say anything murder-inducing. He winces, as if it physically pains him to listen to a god. "Two. I want the Master Bolt. Uh, now." At this Hades laughs, a slow, cold chuckle.

"So you expect to just show up and have these things handed over to you? No, I'm afraid that's not how it works. Someone paid a handsome price to convince me I should give you one thing in my possession. So choose—take the Master Bolt without a fight and be on your merry way, or stay and fight for a hopeless cause that will end up getting you killed."

"Just." Percy snarls, fists clenched. He's glances at the golden light before fixing his eye on Hades. "Give. Me. My. Mom."

"Percy Jackson, your mother is dead. That over there is simply a memory chamber, frozen to a place in time that would capture your attention. The only way to save your mother now is to sacrifice another life to replace hers." Annabeth sees the look on his face. Knows what he's thinking. Knows what he's going to do.

"Percy, you can't," Green eyes swivel towards her, eyebrows cocked in defiance. "You can't." she repeats. "You can't because Camp needs you. Chiron needs you, Grover needs you, the gods need you, okay, I need you, okay? We all do. So don't be an idiot and kill yourself."

Grover steps up, picking at his Rasta cap nervously. "She's right. We do need you, Percy!" he bleats. "You know your mom would never forgive you if you sacrificed yourself and the Master Bolt just for her." With that, Percy's shoulders droop, defiance wiped clean. What's left is defeat.

Suddenly the Master Bolt crackles to life in his hand, appearing out of thin air. He stares at Hades, confused.

"I figured I'd let you hold it," Hades taps his watch, which suddenly appears on his wrist. "Because I'm late!" he exclaims. "And I'm sorry, demigods, but you're going to have to die now."

Skeletons converge on them from all sides, this time dressed in strict, if not tattered, military uniforms. Percy tries to shoot the lightning bolt at them, but just manages to almost fry off his eyebrows. The few skeletons he does manage to hit don't react to the electrocution. It looks like they're doomed, Master Bolt or not, when Annabeth gets a plan.

"Come on!" she screams, yanking Percy and Grover along behind her. Skeletons are slow. They don't have a lot of muscle, after all. Percy realizes where they're going and shakes his head wildly, eyes mildly crazed. Annabeth stares at him hard. "Sorry," she says, genuinely meaning it. She knows how hard it is already... But it's this or being torn apart by a skeleton army. She checks to see if he still has the Master Bolt and jumps. Grover, Percy, and Annabeth all gasp as they step into the memory.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>A rush of wind blows through her hair, whipping it around wildly. Then it stops. Her eyes open slowly.<p>

They're translucent, all three of them, like ghosts but not quite. Her fingers are obviously there, a solid thing, but they're pale in the moonlight shining dully from the window. They seem to glow. Annabeth eyes adjust in the dim light, and she just makes out the outline of a small bed. And then it moves. Her eyes widen as she opens her mouth to scream.

All of sudden, Percy's there, covering her translucent mouth with his glowing hand. He points with his chin at the bed, and she narrows her eyes, focusing on it. The bed didn't move. The person inside it did. A little boy, maybe eight or nine, sits up abruptly, body tense. Does he hear them? He gets up slowly, approaching them on tiny, quick feet. Annabeth's already thinking of cover story, a way to explain to a little kid why three strangers are in his bedroom in the middle of the night, when he walks right through her.

She makes a noise of surprise, but if the kid hears her he shows no sign. He's got his ear pressed up against the door now, listening to the noises outside his bedroom. And suddenly, Annabeth knows who the little boy is. It's the way his hair just brushes his ears and how he stands slightly pigeon-toed, but not enough to be outwardly obvious. It's the determined look on his face, and the dark hair. The little boy is Percy. She looks over at him, but his expression is unreadable as he stares at the younger version of himself.

Little Percy turns the door knob and steps out into the hall, Annabeth, Percy, and Grover following quickly before the door whispers shut behind them. He tiptoes down the hall and hides behind the old patched-up sofa. Annabeth has an idea what this is, and she doesn't want to see it. But she's forced to drift after Little Percy, like she's a tether ball and he's the pole.

A bottle shatters, and Annabeth jumps. Percy's walrus of a stepfather lumbers into the room, and she's hit with the stench. No wonder no monsters found him—they couldn't sniff Percy out over the pure aroma of mortal-ness. Percy's mother, Mrs. Jackson, follows him hesitantly.

"Gabe, can we please not have the TV on right now? Percy's sleeping," she says, patting down her hair. "It took me forever to get him to lie down and... Oh!" Gabe grabs her wrist roughly, dragging her to the floor. She grunts a protest, shushing him while glancing at Percy's closed door nervously. Annabeth doesn't even see Gabe's hand flying, but she hears the impact. Mrs. Jackson gasps quietly, holding her head.

"Get up!" Gabe grounds out, yanking her to her feet. "Stop crying!" He raises his hand again when Little Percy shoots out from behind the couch and kicks him square in the groin. Gabe bends over, glaring venomously at him.

"Don't touch her," Little Percy says, voice shaking. "She didn't do anything!" Gabe lunges for him, knocking over the coffee table. Mrs. Jackson pushes Little Percy protectively behind her, meeting Gabe's stare with a defiant one. Gabe grabs her arm and twists, and Annabeth sees the memory, as clear as day. Her mouth forms an O, eyes wide with pain, tears forming in her eyes.

"Gabe, not in front of Percy," she gasps, tugging at her arm, trying to release his grip. "Just stop." she chokes. Gabe yanks her arm harder as Little Percy stands staring at his mom, shaking like the last leaf on a tree in the winter, ready to blow away with the slightest breeze. "Percy, leave, now." she says firmly. But Little Percy just stands there, paralyzed. Gabe releases Mrs. Jackson in a heap, lumbering away while mumbling about how he has better things to be doing than beating up his wife.

Mrs. Jackson starts crying, tears streaming down her face and shoulders heaving. Little Percy stumbles towards his mom, reaching for her.

"Just go to bed, Percy," she says wearily. "Just go." He backs away slowly, eyes still round. Everything starts to fade until it's all black, and all Annabeth can hear is Mrs. Jackson's sobbing.

* * *

><p>~o~<p>

* * *

><p>There's a flash of light, and she's deposited in the same grassy, abandoned lot that Reyna had taken them before. The sun's setting fast, casting eerie shadows along the length of the alley. Grover appears with a blinding flash, tumbling head-over-heels into the wall. Annabeth helps him up and almost smiles. Last is Percy, who hits the ground walking—away from them. He heads away from them, turning around the corner and out of sight. Annabeth curses, following him at a jog.<p>

He's still walking when she turns into the alley, shoulder muscles tense. "Wait up, will you?" she calls. He whips around, stopping. Percy makes a noncommittal noise, flipping the hair from the front of his eyes and leaning up against the concrete building.

"I've got all day." he says

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey. It's Selena's sister here :) I have absolutely no idea who's going to read this, but I figured I'd publish it. It was on her computer and since I know the password to her account... hehe. She's obviously quit FF, and I'm sorry about that. I doubt this will be updated again, since it doesn't look like she's written anything else. :* So whoever's still following this story: I commend you.**


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